


UnderDark

by UnicornPunk



Series: Underdark [1]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Dark, Chara and Frisk Share a Body, Child Abuse, Child Neglect, Dark!Sans, Existential Angst, Existential Crisis, Experimentation, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Lots of resets, Nihilism, Non-Chronological, Nonbinary Chara and Frisk, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Sad Sans, Sans Remembers Resets, Scientist W. D. Gaster, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide, W. D. Gaster Being An Asshole, and they kinda drive him insane, but it resets!, chara and sans become buddies, people die a lot, so its okay?, underdark au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-27
Updated: 2016-10-30
Packaged: 2018-08-17 13:58:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 34,445
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8146666
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UnicornPunk/pseuds/UnicornPunk
Summary: [ON HIATUS] [at least until i finish my other UT fic, I've Fallen and I Can't Get Up]What if Frisk couldn't stop the resets no matter how much they wanted to? What if their body's determination to live was just too strong and every time they died, they returned to the day they fell into the underground?And all this wouldn't be so bad for Sans if he didn't remember the runs in such excruciating detail, if the monsters around him didn't seem to become less and less real every run, repeating themselves like broken strings of code. Maybe Chara is right. Maybe if none of the other Monsters remember the runs, it doesn't matter what Sans does to them...





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edit: it said at some point Sans was younger which doesn't work with this stories timeline so i fixed it.

Lately, it always came down to the judgement hall. Sans didn’t understand it. The kid had been kind to him a hundred times and unbelievably cruel many more than that. One run they’d play with Papyrus and follow Sans to Grillby's and the next they’d kill everyone. The dust of every single monster in the underground would coat their clothes like a layer of ash.

Sans raised his hand, summoning a circle of blasters. The kid was had. Sans could see them stop to ponder their loss and wondered what it was like for them—to be so undying. Sans was, in a way, stuck in the same boat as the child. The only difference was Sans’s death wasn’t the thing that triggered the resets.

He always had to wonder what the kid did after he died. Had they ever made it to the surface? Had they ever brought their destruction to the humans above? Did they ever stop for a moment to feel their sins crawling down their back? A part of Sans didn’t even care to know the answers.

The Blasters opened their maws, magic filling the room with static. Sans met Chara’s gaze.

“Why do you do this, kid? I just don’t understand,” Sans said. He felt so tired. It was a miracle he hadn’t lost the fight this time.

The kid smiled, red eyes glinting in the darkness. “Of course you don’t. You’ve never had fun a single day in your life.”

Sans released the blasters. The hall was filled with a harsh light and the child didn’t even have time to scream. Unlike them, Sans finished his enemies off quickly. The skeleton let out a breath, and settled against the pillar, waiting for the reset to reach him. He could hear it already, the sound of bones caving in on themselves—of reality turning back to the same hellish day, erasing all the horrors the child had brought out of the ruins.

A thousand times Sans had gone through this. The good runs, he dreaded the resets then, worked as hard as possible to keep the kid from being dusted, and the bad runs—well, he just prayed for those to end quickly. Prayed that the next time wouldn’t be so awful.

 

* * *

 

The kid had said this was fun.

Sans opened his eyes, finding himself back on his couch in Snowdin. Fun, they had called it, like this was some sort of game for them. Sans groaned, sitting up. His body ached. Even when the resets erased the injuries, his bones still remembered them. The cut of the knife, the breaking of the clavicle.

His head throbbed. More than anything, Sans wanted to return to sleep, but he knew from past experience that he had about three seconds before Papyrus came pounding down the stairs, yelling about patrol.

He counted and wasn’t off by a moment. The first time he’d been able to do such a thing, been able to guess the others movements down to the second, it had been sickening. Now Sans just accepted it. Nothing surprised him but the kid and even they were beginning to become predictable.

Sometimes it got to where the moment the kid stepped out of the ruins, Sans knew whether this was going to be a good run or a bad run. It almost made him angry. Frisk, Chara, Flowey, any one of them should have been able to come up with something _new_ but Sans had realized over time (And god, wasn’t that a fucking disaster? This thing he called time. A million years must have passed down here by now, but still, Sans was just a fucking kid murdering other kids for the sake of what? Nothing really. And now Time was beginning to feel like a bad joke.) that people only had so much in them. They could only repeat so many times before they became unbearably predictable.

It was how Chara beat Sans in a fight. It was how Sans beat Chara.

“Sans!”

Sans startled. Papyrus was looking at him from the doorway of the kitchen, the way he always did when Sans got stuck inside his mind like this. Sans offered him a lopsided grin, the expression feeling rehearsed, “yeah bro?”

“You didn’t even say anything when I told you about my new puzzles!” Papyrus chastised. “Did you doze off again Lazybones?”

Sans shrugged.

“What were you even doing last night? You know it’s bad for your back to fall asleep on the couch!”

“Sorry, Paps. Guess I was just bone-tired.”

“Sans!” Papyrus flung his arms in the air and went storming back into the kitchen to finish making breakfast.

Sans sunk deeper into the sofa. He didn’t remember what he was doing the night before the first reset. He didn’t remember much before the resets really. A few things stuck—Papyrus as a baby, their first day in Snowdin, Papyrus’s first taste of spaghetti. He’d written down what he could, but the memories were old and tattered, replaced with images of dust and monster children and repeats, repeats, repeats.

It took a moment for Sans to notice he was shaking. He really was tired, the sort of exhaustion that seeps into the soul. He could feel his HP stutter, feel the effects of his sudden pessimism, and couldn’t help but wish his soul would go out completely. Maybe he could fall like so many other monsters did, become nothing, become dust. He wondered if his death would finally stick if he managed to go that way.

 _I’m just bone-tired. Must be running a femur. Don’t worry Pap’s, nothing gets under my skin._ Sans felt his eye spark. Papyrus was his light, his joy, the thing that kept his HP from dropping and Sans watched Papyrus go through his days like a broken record, over and over and over again and the kid was having _fun._ The kid was enjoying this.

Sans took a shortcut to the bathroom, blipping next to the toilet, and was promptly sick.

There was a knock on the door. Sans was slicked in sweat, shaking. It had been a while since a run had hit him this badly.

“ _Sans, what are you doing? We’re going to be late for patrol and I have a good feeling about today. A human is going to come today—I just know it,”_ Sans mouthed quietly to himself, mimicking Papyrus’s words as he called to his brother from the bottom of the stairs, voice loud compared to Sans’s whispers. 

Honestly, Sans had heard that spiel a hundred times too.

 

* * *

 

Sans followed Papyrus through Snowdin, listening to the taller skeleton chatter excitedly about puzzles and humans and Undyne. Apparently the fish monster was going to teach papyrus a new fighting technique tomorrow. Sans wondered if it still counted as new if he’d already seen it done so many times.

“Sans!”

Sans sputtered to a halt, nearly crashing into Papyrus’s back. He took a few steps away, ignoring the pounding of memories at the back of his skull and smiled at his brother. “yeah, Paps?”

“You just walked past your station!” Papyrus said and pointed behind them.

“oh,” Sans shrugged, “Must not have put my head on straight this morning,” then blipped over to his seat, giving Papyrus a thumbs up. Papyrus shook his head, but gave Sans a cheery wave before continuing on with his patrol.

Today Papyrus would help Monster Kid out of a snow pof and admonish doggo for slacking off on the job. If the human didn’t come out of the ruins today, all he would talk about at dinner would be these two encounters. If the human did come out today—well, it all depended on the kid if papyrus would even still be alive this time tomorrow.  

Sans blipped to the ruins and took his spot behind the large boulder by the ruins door, just out of sight of one of Alphys’s cameras. Sans laid back, letting the snow seep into his jacket and calm his aching bones. He just wanted to sleep for a very long time and forget everything that had ever happened. Couldn’t Frisk find a way to make that wish come true?

Sans knew it would break their heart to know that sans not only knew the numbers behind the resets, but the memories too. The human thought Sans just—just knew data. They couldn’t—Sans couldn’t risk making them any darker by telling him he knew of every sin they’d committed, that he remembered the feeling of their knife in his ribs. Frisk might lose all determination to fight Chara after that (if they hadn’t already) and Sans was tired. He wanted to rest for at least one timeline.

But still—maybe if he asked,  maybe if he made it sound vague enough, maybe, just please god _maybe,_ Frisk might be able to make him forget. Sans knew they couldn’t make the resets stop, but if Sans could just be oblivious to them like everyone else in the underground that might be enough to make things bearable.

The sound of the ruin door sliding open made Sans stiffen. He heard feet hit the snow, tiny boots making a small crunching noise, and snuck a glance at the kid. Some of the tension bled out of his shoulders when he recognized Frisk. It had been a while since they’d been the one to wrangle control of the body and Sans felt—Sans felt _nothing._

Why didn’t he feel happy? Or at the very least relieved he wouldn’t have to deal with a genocide run six times in a row?

 

* * *

 

Sans had his lines memorized by now. Lamp, puzzle, bone-pun, stop sign. He smiled in all the right places and at the end of the day, when the kid was snuggled up on the sofa beside Papyrus, ready for a MTT marathon, Sans quietly excused himself and went to Grillby’s.

The monster gave him a concerned look, but Sans knew his lines. He’d been playing this part for a long time, show after show, and he walked out with a burger and a bottle of spider whisky before blipping to hide beneath the desk of his sentry station.

He didn’t even think about Frisk and Papyrus. Once, _once,_ Chara had managed to trick Sans into thinking they were Frisk long enough to find themself alone with Papyrus. _Once_ Chara had managed to kill Papyrus while the two were playing with the taller skeleton’s action figures. _Once_ Sans had come home to his brother held at knife point while Chara laughed, proud for having found a new toy, proud for having found something _fun._

 _Pop!_ And sans was in waterfall, puking into the stream of garbage. He laid down in a heap of flowers and peeled his coat off his body, sweaty and shaking. Maybe he actually was sick? That had never happened before, but he’d never had to deal with a genocide run five times in a row before either.

There was a splashing noise, the sound of footsteps, and Sans didn’t have the energy to blip away now. He was sick and drunk—though not drunk enough in his opinion anyway—and hurting and he was so goddamn tired.

There was a startled squeak that Sans recognized as Alphys. The tiny monster had a bag slung over her shoulder—probably collecting overworld trash, looking for the newest anime—and the bottom of her coat was soaked through with water. She splashed over to San’s heap of flowers.

“Sans! What are you doing here?” She squeaked, adjusting her glasses. “Oh dear, you don’t look well. Are you all right? Should I call papyrus?”

“Ah, no. I’m fine,” Sans said. “Just a little dino- _sore.”_

Alphys let out a nervous giggle. Sans could tell she was anxious. He wished he had gotten to know her better back when they worked at the labs, back before all this had happened. It was a hassle to try and make friends with her over and over again.

Sans let out a long breath, feeling his energy seep out of him at the mere thought of it.

“Sans?” Alphys ventured.

“Honestly I’m a little tired, Al,” Sans admitted, eye lights dimming. “I think I’m just going to sit here for a bit.”

“Oh. Okay,” Alphys wrung her hands. “Do you—uh—want me to—“ she trailed off.

“Nah, Al. I’m fine. Like I said, I’m just a little tired. You go have—go have fun.”

 

* * *

 

Two resets later and Sans found himself in the judgement hall again. The kid was pinned beneath a pyramid of bones, their soul held in place by Sans’s magic. Sans summoned a blaster then hesitated, his eyes meeting Chara’s.

“You used to be Toriel’s kid,” Sans sputtered. “You’ve been Papyrus’s friend. _You,_ not Frisk.” Sans watched Chara’s eyes widen at the other soul’s name. “How could you do it? How could you hurt everyone you love so much? How can you keep doing this?”

Chara blinked at him. “I always told Frisk you remembered more about the runs than you let on.”

Sans slammed them down hard and Chara let out a string of giggles.

 “Why the hell do you keep hurting everyone?!” Sans snarled, blue eye sparking, his soul shuddering in his chest.

“God! You just don’t get it do you smiley-bones,” Chara sneered, blood dripping down their face. “Fire off that fucking Blaster and I won’t have hurt anyone.”

Sans’s shoulders went limp, eyes widening.

“It’s called a fucking reset for a reason,” Chara spat and Sans let the Blaster turn them to ash.

 

* * *

 

Sans opened his eyes, finding himself on his couch in Snowdin. It was beginning to feel like this was all just a bad dream. It was beginning to feel like nothing was even real anymore. Sans sat up, groaning, and rubbed at his left eye. More than anything, Sans wanted to return to sleep, but he knew from past experience that he had about three seconds before Papyrus came pounding down the stairs.

As per usual, Sans wasn’t off by a second.

The smaller skeleton stared at his hands. They should be covered in blood.  He should be dead, Papyrus should be dead, everyone should be dead. Or at the very least they should be on the surface, braving the human world. They should be _something._ Not stuck here over and over and over again.

“Sans!”

Sans startled. Papyrus was looking at him from the doorway of the kitchen, the way he always did when he caught Sans sulking. Sans offered him a lopsided grin, the expression much too rehearsed, “yeah big bro?”

“You didn’t even say anything when I told you about my new puzzles!” Papyrus chastised. “Did you doze off again Lazybones?”

Sans shrugged.

“What were you even doing last night? You know it’s bad for your back to fall asleep on the couch!”

“Sorry, Paps. Guess I was just bone-tired.” _Ba-da-bum tissh._

 

* * *

The door to the ruins opened sooner than expected. Sans startled, sitting up, and felt his bones go cold when the human child actually called his name, their feet crunching the snow. Sans didn’t know if this was Frisk or Chara. This had never happened before. None of this had ever happened before.

He waited for the kid to get a good ways down the road before blipping behind them. “Hey kid.”

They startled before whipping around. Sans could see Frisk was in control and was a little relieved. A part of him had thought that Chara was seeking him out for a confrontation. Sans offered a lazy smile.

“You’re new around here. How do you know my name?”

“ _Sans,”_ Frisk sighed.

“Yep. There it is again,” Sans snapped his fingers together. “Makes me wonder if you know how to say anything else. Like, I know it’s  an absolutely _sans_ ational name, but please. An explanation would be nice.”  

Frisk flashed him a level stare, searching his expression. Sans knew he was unreadable. He had been lying for so long to every _one,_ even himself, that he knew his mask was impenetrable.

“Chara told me some things,” Frisk said anyway, “and they promised a long time ago not to lie to me.”

Sans faltered. “Don’t know what you’re talking about kid. I’m supposed to be out catching humans, but lucky for you I’m not really feeling up to it today, My brother though—“

“—Sans, _please,_ ” Frisk snapped, “stop bullshitting me.” Frisk let out a long breath, before staring down at the snow, “just—I don’t know, just hear me out okay? Even if I’m wrong, even if you don’t believe me, just—on the off chance that Chara was right, I just—we need to talk, okay?”

Sans let his smile fall, letting his tired expression show through for the first time in—in a long long time.

“Come with me to Grillby’s?” Frisk asked, offering their hand, “my treat?”

“Yeah, sure, kid,” Sans sighed, taking their hand. “It just so happens that I know a shortcut.”

 

* * *

 

 Grillby’s smelled like grease and wet dog. Papyrus hated it, but Sans found it to be pretty decent. The only one who seemed to enjoy it more than Sans was the human child. They had told Sans once that the food there reminded them of the overworld and Sans had to wonder if the kid had forgotten as much about life before the resets as he had. Were Frisk and Chara chasing lost memories, scrabbling to catch whatever might help them remember time before? Back when things moved forward?

They ordered and took a booth near the back, far from where anyone could hear them. Sans took a long moment to stare at his fries, swirling ketchup across the plate.

“You asked me once to stop the resets,” Frisk said suddenly, making Sans pause. He opened his mouth to tell the kid he had no clue what they were talking about, but Frisk cut them off with a wave. “Don’t bother. I don’t care if Chara was telling the truth or not because it doesn’t really matter if they weren’t. It doesn’t matter if they lied and I’m making a fool of myself now, because if that’s the case, you’ll forget all this soon anyway. But if it is true?” Frisk cut off sharply, eyes filling with tears.

“I remember asking you to stop resetting—asking you to just leave the timeline alone,” Sans said then, watching the knowledge settle on Frisk’s shoulders.  

“I tried to give you that,” Frisk breathed.

“I know.”

“It’s not—“ Frisk sighed, frustrated. “I tried Sans. So many times. I thought—maybe if I just let myself get old, if I just, died on the surface we wouldn’t end up coming back, but it just didn’t work. Chara and I lived entire _lives_ on the surface and in the underground alike. We grew old. We—we loved and lived and when we died, we were ready, you know? Ready to let the world go on without us, then we woke up in the underground instead, back in a child’s body.”

“That sounds rough,” Sans said, trying to put some emotion in his voice. He couldn’t though. He’d murdered/befriended/ignored this kid too many times to really care about their pain anymore.

“You’re lucky,” Frisk said. “At least when you reset, you still have people who love you. No one remembers me. Every time it’s at square one. It just—it gets so frustrating. I got so mad at them. Why didn’t they remember me, you know? Why didn’t anyone remember?” Frisk swallowed. “Chara had it the hardest. Probably because they knew you all before and loved you all before and you didn’t even recognize them. And you all just do the same things over and over! It gets to feeling like—like you all aren’t even real. Like you’re just toys, or—“

“—broken code?” Sans asked, watching Frisk flinch.

“Chara wasn’t the only one to complete a genocide run,” they whispered then.

Sans nodded, unshocked by this revelation. He stared at his hands, at the spaces between the bones, and just couldn’t dredge up an ounce of surprise. After a long moment of silence, he said, “I can’t remember what I did yesterday. It’s not yesterday, you know? It’s a thousand years ago but—but it shouldn’t be. It should just be yesterday.”

“I jumped down Mt. Ebbot yesterday,” Frisk said and laughed, the sound horrid and broken.

“I wish you hadn’t.”

“We do too,” the human admitted, speaking for both halves of themself. They scrubbed a hand across their face, “I can’t remember my mom’s name or where I lived. I can’t even remember what my favorite animal was. I just—nothing feels real anymore. Nothing matters enough to remember anymore. It’s just—it’s all about going through the motions, you know?”

“The longest we ever got was sixty years.”

“Yeah.

“It was a good sixty years.”

“Toriel died.”

“Of old age.”

“Yeah,” Frisk gave a sad smile, “isn’t that something.” They looked towards the door, “Maybe we’ll go back to the surface this run. It’s been a while since we’ve broken the barrier, hasn’t it?”

“I honestly don’t know,” Sans admitted and let out a sad little laugh, ignoring the feeling of frisk’s eyes bearing into him. He swallowed hard, expression going tight, and looked to Frisk. “If I had told you all this before, about how I knew, would things have been different? Would you not of killed everyone over and over like you did?”

“I don’t know.”

“Frisk,” Sans felt his eyes harden, the lights going out, “please.”

At that, Frisk let out a long breath, shoulders hunched. “It might’ve taken longer for us to get around to it. But Sans, you have to understand, all of this—it just, everything we do doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter if we kill everyone or no one. It doesn’t matter if we make everyone the happiest they can be or make them absolutely miserable. None of them remember. None of them ever remember any of it.”

“We do.” Sans glanced away, feeling his fist tighten, “ _I_ do.”

“I didn’t know. I’m sorry.”

Sans felt his soul flicker, anger flaring up in his chest for the first time in ages. “Sorry?” This child had made Sans live through horrors all because they thought he wouldn’t remember, all because they thought he didn’t matter. This child had made the underground—the whole world their play thing. This child had—Sans felt his eye catch and shut it tightly.

“You know kid, I made a promise to someone a long time ago,” Sans said through gritted teeth, feeling his magic hum, “but I don’t think it’s one I want to keep any more.”

 

* * *

 

Sans woke up on his couch in Snowdin.

He didn’t see the kid once this run, but heard stories. Knew from the tales Papyrus fed him, that the kid was planning on breaking the barrier. Maybe Frisk was trying to apologize to him, maybe they were just bored with playing in the underground, maybe anything—sans just didn’t care. Then Frisk broke the barrier and everyone stood to watch the sunrise together. Papyrus shouted about how he had never seen anything so beautiful before and all Sans could think was how Papyrus was wrong. He’d been here before. They had all been here before and they’d be here again and again and again.

The kid stood holding hands with Toriel and Sans couldn’t do it. He couldn’t do any of this anymore. He turned and ran and heard Frisk shout after him, heard Papyrus’s call of surprise.

Frisk caught him by the arm, yanking him back. “What the hell are you running away for? We did this for you!”

“Get off me!” Sans snarled, grabbing Frisk with his magic and throwing them against the far wall. He felt so angry. He felt so unbearably frustrated with everything.

“SANS! SANS WHAT ARE YOU DOING TO THE HUMAN!” Papyrus appeared in the cavern then, grabbing Sans by the arm, trying to stop the smaller skeleton from hurting his ‘friend’. And god, wasn’t that sick? Wasn’t all of this just so fucking sick. The human had killed Papyrus so many times and just because of a few resets, Sans now looked the monster.

Sans pushed him away, “stay there,” he snarled and pinned Papyrus beneath a pyramid of bones. He then blipped in front of Frisk, grabbing them by the throat. “You did this for me? _Me?_ ” Sans snarled, watching Frisk’s eyes grow wide as saucers, “what about what you did _to_ me! to all of us over and over and over again! What about that?! You think this is somehow going to make it okay? A brief stint of fake happiness before you get bored and you and your little murder buddy decide to start killing again? You think I’m supposed to just go along with that?”

Sans slammed them against the ceiling, the floor, hating it and loving it at the same time. The violence did nothing to soothe his anger. He just wanted it to stop. He needed everything to stop.

“SANS YOUR HURTING THEM!” Papyrus shouted, tackling sans to the ground. Somehow he’d managed to escape the bones. Somehow he’d managed to grab Sans with his magic and hold him down, coming to clutch at his brother’s shoulders. “THE HUMAN IS OUR FRIEND, SANS! PLEASE, STOP!” Papyrus had tears in his eyes, bright orange and gut wrenching. “Please,” he said.

Sans let himself be pulled into Papyrus’s embrace. He wrapped the taller skeleton in a tight hug and Papyrus did the same. It felt safe. It felt warm. It felt—like nothing in all of time could touch them.

“They killed you,” Sans muttered into Papyrus’s shoulder before pushing the taller skeleton away and summoning a Gaster Blaster. The human didn’t even try to move. They just looked sad, staring into the open maw of the Blaster.

“Frisk,” Sans grinned so widely it made his skull ache, “how old are you?”

Frisk gave him a somber look. “I don’t remember.”

 

* * *

 

Sans woke up on his couch in Snowdin. He almost ran into Papyrus on his way up the stairs. The taller skeleton seemed startled, and paused to glance back at his brother.

“Sans? Where are you going? We have patrol today!”

At that, Sans let his body go stiff. He turned back to Papyrus and could tell his smile was less than convincing. Could tell that, despite his best efforts, his weariness still showed through. “Sorry, Paps. Guess I’m not feeling too hot, today. Mind if I call in sick?”

Papyrus gave him a worried look. He seemed to waver on the verge of arguing, but one look at Sans and he clapped the smaller skeleton on the shoulder, “of course, brother! Whatever you need! I, the Great Papyrus, will make sure nothing goes amiss while you’re healing up!”

Some of the heaviness resting in San’s chest abated at the sight of his brother’s smile. Then the smaller skeleton’s head throbbed suddenly and he couldn’t stop from picturing Papyrus’s head tumbling from his shoulders, the human grinning in the distance as his brother—as Sans’s _light—_ turned to dust.

He felt a touch on his face, Papyrus feeling the top of Sans skull for a fever even though it had been ages since Sans had been anything less than—functional. Sans laid his hand over his brother’s and stepped away from Papyrus’s touch.

“Pap,” Sans swallowed. “What—what’s my favorite color?”

“Why, it’s orange sillybones,” Papyrus smiled, though his eyes flashed with concern.

“Oh, heh, yeah,” Sans nodded. “my bad. Must’ve slipped my mind for a sec there. I just—I must just be bone tired to forget something like that, right?”

 

* * *

 

 Two resets later and there was a loud knock on Sans’s bedroom door. Sans let out a groan, pushing himself to his feet and nearly tumbling into the pile of dirty laundry resting beside his bed. His room was a little dirtier than usual, dishes piling in the corner, but it didn’t matter really if the whole place started to smell like a dumpster. It’d be back to normal soon enough.

Sans pushed open the door and glared down at the child standing before him. Chara grinned, tilting their head to the side.

“Long time, no see, Sansy,” Chara grinned. “May I come in?”

Sans frowned at them. “Not like it matters either way,” he said and returned to his bed, flopping back down on the mattress.

Chara shut the door behind them, scoffing at the state of Sans room. “You know, Asriel used to keep our room like this. Got so bad we put a tape line down the middle. It was the only way we could keep the mess from eating up the entire place.”

Sans nodded. “He’s the one stuck in the flower, right?”

That caused the smile to slip from Chara’s face. They went to examine Sans’s bookshelf, head nodding slowly as they did so.

“Must be hard to see him like that.”

“I guess,” Chara shrugged. “We haven’t seen him in a while. He remembers too,” Chara quieted for a long moment, “it doesn’t bother him as much though. Perks of not having a soul I guess.”

“Makes me jealous.”

“Me too,” Chara let out a breath and stood, turning back to Sans, hands resting on their hips. “You know, Frisky’s been real down since you blasted them in front of Pap. You really hurt their feelings doing that.”

Sans snorted.

“I told them you wouldn’t like it, but they never listen to me the first time around.”

“You give bad advice.”

“No. I give advice no one wants to hear.”

Sans just shook his head at that and Chara let out an annoyed huff.

“ Look, I get it, okay? All this really really sucks,” Chara agreed. “I don’t know what the four of us did to deserve this hell, but it must have been pretty awful. Worse than killing the world even. And I get that you’re mad. We were too.  I get that you wanna give up on it all. We tried that too. But just—“ Chara clenched their jaw, seeming to struggle with their words. “I’ve done a lot of things that you probably think are awful. You probably hate me and Frisk. You just—and you’re right, you should hate us. _I_ hate us. But—you gotta also think if anything we did was really bad. If it all just erases itself, if no one remembers, if we always bring it back to square one, than is anything really bad at all?”

“Just because you can fix something that doesn’t give you the right to break it.”

“But we didn’t break it! We didn’t do anything! We just—“ Chara cut off. “Sans, if we’re the only ones that remember the timelines, then what does that mean? What does that make us? Sans, we’re the only ones the timelines matter to. Everyone else—it never touches them. It’s just us. It’s all about us.”

“Papyrus—“ Sans started.

“What about him? Is he any different today than he’s ever been? Has any of this changed him at all? Is he even a little aware of what’s going on with us?” Chara snapped. “No. He hasn’t and no matter what we do, no matter what we pull, he never ever will. Look, Sans, Frisk is the kind one of the two of us. Frisk tried to be easy on you. They gave you the soft version of things but now I’m just going to tell you the hard truth. When it comes down to it, the only happiness that matters, the only thing that has any consequence in this fucked up timeline of ours, is _us.”_

Sans swallowed hard.

“The others are barely even real. They’re just reruns of themselves, doing the same shit over and over again. We exist outside of them, Sans. No matter how hard we try, we can’t be normal the way they are.” Chara snorted. “Hell, maybe we _are_ the normal ones. Maybe they’re the ones who are broken. Isn’t that a thought?”

“This is too much,” Sans breathed.

Chara gave him a sympathetic pat on the shoulder and fuck, wasn’t that something? Sans never once thought the little shit might try and actually make him feel better.

“Yeah. I bet it is,” Chara said. “I don’t even have to go through all the runs. Frisk fronts for a few, you know, then when they’re tired I take over for a while. It’s nice, letting go for a bit. It’s like taking a really long nap. I guess it’s what dying _should_ be like. But you don’t even get that.” Chara let out a breath. “Maybe you could give your body to Flowey for a run? He might not do the best things with it, but like I said, it doesn’t really matter what happens to anyone else. It doesn’t really happen to them like it does to us anyway.”

Chara tilted their head to the left. “Or I could kill you then go for a long run for a bit. Is it—does time pass for you when that happens or do you just wake up in the beginning again.”

“I wake up. What about you two?”

“We get a bit before it all falls apart and like I said, we take turns having to front,” Chara frowned, lips pouting. “Maybe a coma then? Or you could try drugs?”

“What the hell are you getting at kid?”

“Don’t get all defensive with me. I’m just trying to help you out,” Chara raised their hands in surrender. “I’m just trying to ease you in. You gotta learn to do whatever it is that makes you comfortable. Just get through the day, all right? Just, anything you haven’t tried yet. Anything at all, just do it.”

“And when I run out of things to try?”

Chara grinned at that, eyes somber, “trust me. You got a ways to go before that happens.”

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so this chapter actually is kinda fluffy? dont worry. i promise angst. angst is my forte.

 

 Chara appeared to be sincere in their want to help Sans, but as the run went on, they seemed to become more and more withdrawn. Sometimes Sans would catch Chara arguing with themself, eyes half closed like their mind was somewhere else, but whatever they told Frisk wouldn’t bring the other human out of their funk.

Sans found Chara sitting on the flowers in Waterfall. They had their hands wrapped around their knees, staring down at the water while they watched trash float by. Sans settled beside them, enjoying the smell of the flowers.

“Frisk isn’t coming back the next reset,” Chara said, then looked away. “You really hurt their feelings.”

“I didn’t peg either of you as the type to care how others feel,” Sans said.

Chara glared at him. “You know what? Fuck you. Just—Fuck you, okay? I’m tired of you thinking so badly of them. Frisk tried, okay! Frisk really really tried to stay good. You know how long it was before they let me front? You know how tired they were? And then you just sit there and treat them like trash and I’m sorry, I might fit that mold, but Frisk doesn’t. Frisk is the only good thing in this god forsaken hole.”

“They killed everyone.”

“And you let us!” Chara snarled. “You could have stopped us! You could have killed us the moment we touched Toriel, but you didn’t! You just fucking watched. Oh wait, I forgot, you made a promise not to hurt us, right? Well, screw that. Screw whatever reasons you had because you know what? They weren’t reasons at _all_. They were just an excuse not to care. When you get down to it, Sans, you’re just as bad as us. You treated your friends the same way, doing nothing to help them like that. If you really saw them as important, you wouldn’t have let us touch them, but you know what?”

Chara grinned at him. “The thing is, you realized the same thing we did. These people don’t matter anymore. So why put in the effort to try and save them? Why fucking bother?”

“Because their worth it,” Sans growled.

“Ah, the sweet sound of denial in the morning. Makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside,” Chara laughed, rolling their eyes, before pushing to their feet. “Look, I’m going to head back to Snowdin. Come talk to me when you’ve pulled yourself down from that high horse of yours, okay?”

 

 

* * *

 

Papyrus came knocking on Sans door and didn’t wait for a response before pushing in. Sans was sitting on his bed, head cradled in his hands. His eye lights were out and the room had gotten dark in the past hour, night falling.

_Was Chara right? Was Sans just as guilty as they were?_

The taller skeleton sat beside Sans, eyes glowing orange in an attempt to provide comfort. “Sans?” He said, voice quiet, “I made dinner.”

“Not hungry. Just goes right through me anyway,” Sans muttered, not really feeling up to acting the part of the happy-go-lucky brother.  

Papyrus let out a small breath. “Don’t be a silly bones. You haven’t eaten in a while Sans and you need to keep your strength up so we can protect the human!”

He made to touch Sans’s arm, maybe to carry Sans down the stairs like he had on so many occasions before, but the moment his hand touched Sans, Sans’s eye lit up blue. He caught Papyrus in a surge of magic and pushed him bodily from the room.

“ _I said I wasn’t hungry!_ ” Sans growled, magic sparking.

Papyrus tripped on the carpet, falling in a heap outside Sans’s bedroom door.  

That was enough to break Sans out of his sudden rage. His eye lights returned and he blinked, his actions catching up with him. “Oh god, papyrus. I—I didn’t mean to—I just got so—“ He just couldn’t stand to feel any more out of control than he already did. “Did I hurt you?”

Did it really matter if Sans _had_ hurt him?

“O-of course not! The great papyrus is much sturdier than that,” Papyrus said, but he was clearly shaken. He pushed himself off the ground, “but Sans, are you okay? You’ve seemed off ever since the human showed up.”

At that, Sans couldn’t help but laugh. He wondered how sudden his change in mood must seem to someone who didn’t remember the resets. He wondered if the brother Papyrus remembered even existed anymore.

* * *

 

“I think I figured it out,” Sans said.

“Oh?” Chara looked up from where they were beating a snow pof with a stick. Their legs were powdered with snow, brow a little sweaty from the effort of destroying the pof.

“ _We_ know. That’s what makes it matter, because you, me, Frisk. We know. So we have to keep each other good because even if no one else knows what we do each run, _we_ do.”

“I don’t care what you do,” Chara admitted.  

“But you have to!” Sans said, a feeling of desperation pricking at his ribs. “You have to! Because if you don’t, then there’s no point! That’s why you have to care what I do. That’s why _I_ have to care what you do, because we’re the only people who can judge each other now.”

Chara snorted, but set their stick on the ground, dusting their hands off on their shorts. “You know, when I realized you were just like Frisk and me, I never expected us to become friends out of that. I thought you’d just start hating us more.”

“We’ve been friends a hundred times.”

“Yeah, but that doesn’t count,” Chara shrugged. “We never talked about anything that mattered. This, here,” They gestured between the two of them, “this shit matters.” Chara ran an eye across the skeleton’s frame before going to rub their arms, “it’s goddamn freezing out here. Fucking Snowdin. I always hated it.”

The little human really did seem cold. Their nose was red and snow had melted on their head, turning a few wisps of hair into icicles. It occurred to Sans that no one had ever thought to offer the human a jacket. Were all of the monsters really so dense? Did they never realize how uncomfortable Snowdin must be for someone like Chara?

Sans had never given it a thought before. He was extremely well-versed in indifference.

“Come here,” Sans said and took a step, arms going to grab the human.

Chara immediately danced back, picking up their stick with a surprising amount of speed and wielding it like a bat. Sans jumped back.

“Holy shit, kid! No need to get all violent on me!”

“Yeah, well, you’re the one who made to grab me,” Chara said. “Frisk might just stand there and let you kill them, but your blasters fucking hurt.”

“Yeah, so does your goddamn _knife_.”

That seemed to hit Chara across the jaw. Their grip on the stick loosened and they went slack, gaze slipping to the ground. The two stood in silence, trees creaking where they were leaden with snow.

“We’re bad at this,” Sans said, wiping at his brow. “I was just—trying to,” he sighed, then went to pull off his coat, offering it to the child. He felt strange without its bulk, but Chara honestly looked like they needed it more than he did. He wiggled it, “Here.”

Chara took it from him, staring at the interior of the coat.

“I promise its clean. The rest of me may be a slob, but the coats clean, I swear.”

“No, it’s not that,” Chara’s grip tightened on the coat. They looked to Sans. “You’re just right about us being bad at this. I haven’t talked to anyone besides Frisk in a long time. This is new okay? You not trying to kill me—it’s gonna take some getting used to.” And they slipped the jacket over their arms.

They looked small in it, the hem line coming to their knees, hands disappearing in the blue expanse of its sleeves. Sans was overcome with a sudden vertigo as he realized just how _young_ Chara was. And lord, he was young too, wasn’t he? Papyrus would know the exact number, but even just from looking at himself in the mirror, Sans could tell he was young, barely old enough to stop wearing stripes.

Yet here the two of them were, having lived through more than any mortal could ever hope to.

“Come here, kid,” Sans said and wrapped Chara in a hug. The human didn’t sink into the embrace, but they didn’t fight it either. “We’re too small for this bullshit, huh?” Sans swallowed hard. “I’m so sorry, you know. Not about killing you all those times, that was just—just business. But I never once—you were cold and alone and I’m so sorry. I’m sorry you died young. I’m sorry you can’t figure out how to stay dead. I’m sorry you’re stuck as a kid now. I’m sorry no one remembers you. And I’m so sorry you have to deal with all this. I’m just so so sorry.”   

Each of his statements seemed to cause a little of the tension to run from Chara’s shoulders, turning them to something soft. Sans pulled back and they wiped at their runny nose, cheeks nipped red by the cold of Snowdin.

“Just for that, you’re buying me dinner,” Chara pouted.

“I apologize _and_ buy dinner? That seems a little unfair.”

Chara snorted. “He who brings emotion into a conversation must also provide comfort food afterwards. It’s a law, I think. Pretty sure Asgore wrote it down somewhere.”

Sans laughed, but really, he was all too happy to oblige.

 

It had been a long time since life had seemed this new.

* * *

 

 Chara didn’t like Grillby’s the way Frisk did. They crinkled their nose at the layers of grease and picked at their plate of fries, like they were checking them for defects, but still ate their entire plate. It was funny. Not even Sans cleaned his plate anymore, which, really, when was the last time he’d eaten properly?

With a shock, Sans realized that if it weren’t for the reset’s, he’d probably be nothing but marrow by now. Shit, the kid didn’t need to kill him. Sans was killing himself.

He took another bite of hamburger, ketchup oozing out the sides, and watched Chara make a face.

“I don’t see how you can eat this stuff,” Chara complained.

“I don’t see how you can’t. There’s not a better cook in the entire underground.”

“Toriel,” Chara pointed out.

Sans frowned. “Yeah, well, she’s not coming out of the ruins anytime soon now, is she?”

The comment didn’t deter Chara. The kid toyed with the napkin dispenser, eyes going far away. “She makes the best pie, Sans. Like insanely good and she always has chocolate.”

“Never had much of a sweet tooth,” Sans shrugged.

Chara rolled their eyes. “You’re no fun. No wonder you fit in so well with the glitches. You never do anything _fun._ ”

At that, Sans stiffened. “And what do you consider fun? Killing my brother? That’s fun to you?”

“I was thinking more like getting a hobby or something, but fratricide sounds fine to me,” Chara rolled their eyes.  

Sans was overcome with a sudden disgust for the kid. He set his burger down and sucked in a few breaths. His eyes went dark and his jaw clenched so hard he thought he might crack bone.

He felt a touch on his hand and glanced up. Chara wasn’t smiling anymore. Instead, they looked a little tired.

“I won’t bring it up again,” Chara said.

Sans blinked, anger vanishing suddenly. Once upon a time he had thought he knew what this kid was about. Now they seemed set on surprising him.

“Frisk and I have a lot of deals like that—stuff we don’t talk about no matter what, no matter how bored we get, and I think we’ve both broken it a hundred times, but it’s something,” Chara pulled their hand back. “So cards on the table: you tell me to stop talking about the bad runs and I will.”

“You’re supposed to be awful.”

“I was never very good at being what I was supposed to be,” Chara shrugged. “Look, Sans, I won’t apologize for what I did. I’m honestly not sorry for hurting everyone and given the chance to go back and change things, I’d probably do it the same and that’s awful, but like you said, that’s _me_. So I won’t say I’m sorry, but I’ll also shut up about it too. Your call.”

“Why not just stop talking about it? Why ask?”

“Because every time I got to the judgement hall, it never felt like I was the only one caving beneath my sins,” Chara tilted their head to the sides. “You let them down—let Papyrus down—a million times. Maybe it’s time you unload all that guilt?”

 

* * *

 

 

 Once Sans had broken down and told Papyrus everything about the resets. His brother hadn’t understood it much but, unlike any of the other monsters Sans had opened up to over the years, he had, at the very least, _believed_ Sans. Then Papyrus did what he did best: he tried to fix things. And Sans got tired of being seen as a problem so Sans stopped trying to make Papyrus understand.

Sans stopped making Papyrus suffer like that.  

Because more than anything, Sans loved  Papyrus dearly. He remembered when Paps was just a baby bones, remembered his first bite of spaghetti, his first birthday in snowdin, his—

Sans shut his eyes tightly, pressing against his forehead.

He remembered— _Papyrus—_

When it started, Sans held on to all the little details. Then he could just remember the details about Papyrus. Now it was all slipping away.

He had to ask himself: had there ever really been a time before the resets?

 

 

* * *

 

“They’re children,” Chara said then laughed, wiping at their face. They reached into the bowl sitting on Sans’s counter, whisking some excess brownie batter off the sides of the bowl and popping it in their mouth. The entire house smelled like sweets, Chara having decided to teach Sans the basics of cooking. “They have the most basic understandings of their own lives. They’re like—dogs, maybe. Or babies. Something that’s cute just because it’s so goddamn stupid.”

“Papyrus is _not_ stupid,” Sans growled, pausing where he was kneading a lump of bread dough.

Chara moved the batter bowl into the sink, pushing it beneath the water. A puff of bubbles escaped, popping quickly.

“I didn’t mean it like that. Ignorant, I guess, is a better word.” Chara rolled their neck, “or naive, though that makes it sound like they’re capable of ever understanding and ignorant really has the same connotation as that…so I guess I was right at the start. They’re stupid.”

“They could understand. We just haven’t explained it to them right. We just didn’t try hard enough—“

“Sa— _ans_ ,” Chara groaned. “God, do you always have to make everything about you? Lord you have a guilt complex bigger than the underground! Since when is every soul down here your problem?”

Chara wiped their hands off of their pants, “Look, what if someone came down from the sky and told you that your entire world was just a cog in a wristwatch and that everyone in the universe owned one of these wristwatches, so there were a hundred million different versions of you, right? A hundred million trillion different versions! How could you understand what they really meant with that statement?

“Or I’ll do you one better. How about the fact that there are more stars in the sky than there are cells in your body. Like what the fuck! That’s insane, right? Or what if you spent your whole life believing the world was like some big fucking donut, then someone was like, oh no, its round. What then?” Chara shook their head. “It’s incomprehensible. Even when you know it, you can’t really understand what it means. Like is a hundred million trillion even really a number? How can you even begin to conceptualize something like that? You can’t. You just can’t.”

Chara moved to dry the now clean mixing bowl and put it away in the lower cabinet. “Look, in the grand scheme of things, probably like one percent of our lives happened before the resets started. Or more like half a percent, a fraction of a percent even. But to everyone else? This now,” Chara stretched their back, “this is their one percent.”

Sans paused, watching the bread dough flatten against the counter top. Chara came over and pushed him out of the way, adding more flower to the mixture and kneading it like it was second nature to them.

“When did you start baking anyway?”

“A million years ago,” Chara grinned and there was no way to tell if they were really joking or not. They turned back to the bread, putting it in the pan to rise, “I like baking. It’s immediate gratification, you know? A resets not gonna rip away a loaf of banana bread.”

They smiled at him, expression unexpectedly soft, “Get old like me and don’t know what to do? Get a hobby. Preferably something that can keep you busy until you finally croak which, for us, is gonna be a long long time.”

 

* * *

 

“I threw Papyrus out of my room the other night,” Sans finally said.

Chara looked up from the television screen, pulling their knees closer to their chest so that their feet disappeared beneath Sans’s jacket. They were using it like a blanket and Sans had found Chara had claimed the coat as their own. That was fine. Sans had others.

“He just wanted me to come down an eat dinner and I threw him out,” Sans shut his eyes. It was probably one of the worst things he had done to his brother.

“That’s awful,” Chara said, attention going back to the movie. It was one of the surface films, something Sans had borrowed from Alphys days ago. Sans didn’t really understand it, but the animation was nice. “You’re the worst thing in the underground.”

“Kid—“

“You feel that bad about it I can just go throw myself in the river. Make it where he never remembers it,” Chara shrugged.

Sans glanced away.

“You worry about the glitches too much.” Chara shifted so that their head was on the arm rest, eyes up on the ceiling. They stared at something far away and let out a breath. “Why didn’t you ever stop me from killing Papyrus? No bullshit answers. Just be straight with me. You only really care about what happens to him. So why?”

“It would’ve hurt him more to admit you were beyond saving. You always made it fast. He never suffered.”

Chara pursed their lips, thoughtful, like they were weighing whether Sans was telling the truth or not. “Okay. That’s fucked up.”

“You wanted the truth.”

“Yeah, I guess so,” Chara snorted. “Okay, so you don’t want Paps to suffer? Whether he’s dead or alive you just want him to stay your golden little snowflake?”

“It’s who he is.”

“It’s who you want him to be,” Chara pointed out. “You want him to be naive and happy and stupid because you _can’t_ be those things. You treat him like a kid because you need him to be everything you’re not.”

“That’s—“ Sans stopped. He remembered what Chara had said so many years ago. They didn’t give bad advice, they just gave advice no one wanted to hear. Had Sans really been infantilizing Papyrus all these years? The stories, the action figures, was all of that just Sans trying to give Paps a happiness he couldn’t find himself?

“Papyrus’s happiness is something you have complete control over,” Chara grinned, “and in our lives, it’s nice to have control over something. So the question is, do you feel bad about hurting Papyrus or do you feel bad about losing control?”

“He looked so shaken.”

“Ah, so you don’t like the idea of him being scared of you?” Chara sat up. “Sans, has it ever occurred to you that you are utterly terrifying? Like not by human standards, by _monster standards_ you are absolutely one hundred percent terrifying. You can hide behind your one HP all you want, but we both know even Undyne would have a hard time surviving a fight against you.  So maybe Papyrus should be scared of you.”

“I would never hurt him though.”

“That’s a lie! You already did! You threw him out of your room!”

“Yeah, but I didn’t mean to!”

“That’s a dumb fucking excuse. You meant to! We always mean to!”

Sans glared at them. “What the hell do you want from me?”

“Why did you tell me about Papyrus?”

Sans looked away.

“You wanted me to tell you it’s okay. You wanted me to tell you he’s fine— that it didn’t bother him, but we both know that’s not true. It probably scared the hell out of him. He’s probably scared _for_ you too, and doesn’t that just make it worse? That he’s not even worried about himself.”

“I didn’t feel badly about it when it happened,” Sans said at last.

Chara smiled, and sunk into the sofa. “And now we get to the root of the issue.” They looked at him, “it scared you, didn’t it? That you could do that to him and not care. Maybe you have a little genocide in you after all. Maybe you know, deep down, that if just a few things were different, you might be just as bad as me.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> uhh so yeah. get ready for the nihilism. anyone ever listen to the sans papyrus rap, but like the undersell version? Yeah, this is just the second day of the fall. 
> 
> Don't worry, i promise our favorite skeleton will suffer. 
> 
> *Jazz hands*
> 
> also comments warm my cold dead heart.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this one kinda skips between past and present each cut. fair warning. Also the suicide tag majorly comes into play this chapter. like nothing too explicit, but its Chara's past, so you know. pretty much canon suicide there depending on how you view things.

Chara had jumped down Mt. Ebbot because the thought of drowning scared them and if they jumped off a building, someone was likely to find their body. Chara didn’t want that. They wanted to dissapear and the stories about the mountain seemed like they would fill that desire well enough. And fuck, if the rumors about the place being filled with Monsters were true, than at least Chara would finally be around someone who was just as horrible as they were.

Except nothing ever went the way Chara wanted it to. The moment they’d come gasping into this world, God had decided to make them His play thing. Chara was an experiment in tolerance, God’s way of figuring out how much shit a human could take before they broke once and for all. Chara didn’t know if the experiment was a success or not, they only knew when they woke up in the underground, body aching from the fall, their soul seemed to quiver in their chest. They were tired. They were oh-so tired.

They rolled on their back, staring up at the hole above them. The sun was just beginning to rise, the sky a rosy pink. Chara let the sunlight dust their cheeks, the feeling warm.

“Hello?” A voice called from the distance. “O-oh. Oh my gosh, are you okay?”

A small monster appeared before them, his eyes wide with worry. “Oh my gosh. Ah, you look hurt. You look really really hurt. W-wow, I am not prepared to deal with this today.”

Chara snorted. The little goat looked cute when he was scared, his fur puffing up. He had tiny horns coming through the top of his head and a part of Chara wanted to tug on his ears just to see his nose crinkle. His lips kept moving, but Chara couldn’t hear what he was saying. The human could only hear the blood rushing through their veins.

A moment later the goat-kid took off running in the opposite direction and Chara smiled. It was for the best. Half the reason they had jumped into this hole was so they could die alone, after all. They didn’t need the kid crying over them.

           

* * *

 

The fact that Sans remembered the resets hadn’t really surprised Chara. They had suspected, ever since they’d seen the tiny skeleton bleed red, that the monster had more determination than most. Even Undyne had never _bled._ So, unlike Frisk, the news didn’t rattle them. It barely seemed to jostle Chara because, honestly, they couldn’t help but think how much _better_ it made things. If Sans remembered, that opened up so many more possibilities and for so long now, Chara had believed they had done everything. Now though? Things were finally going to be fun again—genuinely fun too, not just the sick, adrenaline inducing fun the genocide routes brought.

They _were_ surprised when Sans didn’t spit on them. They were surprised when Sans didn’t turn them away at the door. They were absolutely flabbergasted when the skeleton offered them his coat, letting the horror that was Chara Dreemur wrap themselves in his most prized possession like they were nothing more than a regular human child.

Sans had killed Frisk. He’d been furious with Chara’s counterpart, but for some reason he actually seemed to maybe want Chara around.

It was _weird_.

 

Chara wrapped themselves tighter in Sans’s jacket. The interior smelled like ketchup and pine needles, the after scent of magic just barely there. Chara stole it whenever they could and today, when Chara had made to hand it to Sans as he walked out the door, the skeleton had refused their offer.

Now Sans was in the kitchen, grabbing lunch for the two of them, digging through the piles of sweets Chara had baked the past few days and humming under his breath. It was different. It felt— _homely_ in a way Chara hadn’t experienced in what felt like forever.

“Here you go, kid,” Sans said, handing Chara a plate.

Chara picked up the piece of quiche, mind reeling. They could feel Sans’s eyes on them, waiting for them to take a bite, his soul so goddamn happy and warm and Chara didn’t know how to deal with that. It was bad enough that _Frisk_ liked them, and the two of them had shared a body for eons now. Now Sans, someone they had treated like a goddamn murder-toy, someone who’s life had been destroyed by them a thousand times, was feeding them _breakfast_. It was goddamn surreal.

Suddenly claustrophobic, Chara stood, setting their plate on the coffee table.

“Kid?” Sans asked. “Something wrong with the food?”

Chara waved him off. “Fuck, I’m fine. I just—I need to go.” And they were out the door, running from the best thing that had happened to them since Frisk.

* * *

 

 

Instead of dying from the fall, Chara woke up. They groaned, rolling over on the bed, and wondered what mess they had found themself in now.

“Oh! You’re awake! That’s good,” the little goat monster stuttered. “We thought—I mean humans are so _different_ —not that you’re weird or anything—but you’re just, uh, _human_?” The monster deflated, looking sheepish, and rubbed at the back of his neck. “I should probably go get mom.”

“Mom?” Chara sat up. For the amount of damage they had taken, there was a surprising lack of pain. If anything, they were simply bruised, when Chara had been so sure they’d been broken. “Your mom’s here?”

The kid brightened. “Yeah! She healed your soul! She’s really awesome. Her and dad. Big and fluffy and they’re huge!” He gestured with his arms, bouncing on his seat. “Like really huge!”

Chara scowled, rubbing at their forehead. That was just great. The last thing Chara needed was to be held captive by two giant _grown-ups._ The human didn’t know how monsters really worked, but just from talking to the little goat they had learned they were in over their head.

The kid was too nice, unbelievably nice. There was no telling if his parents would be the same way. They could be awful. They could be like Chara’s own parents and the only reason they healed Chara at all was to use the human as a pawn to get money from whatever the monster equivalent of child protective services was.

Yeah, Chara was done with that sort of bullshit. They moved to get out of bed and Asriel immediately started fretting.

“H-hey! Mom said you should probably rest for a little bit. Your HP was really low when she found you. You might—hey, where are you going?”

Chara was already at the window, one foot outside. It was only a first story room, which was a little relieving. Chara didn’t really want to have to jump so soon after falling. The goat monster grabbed them by the arm and Chara pushed him back, snarling.

“Don’t touch me!”

The kid’s eyes widened, becoming huge and wet. Chara suddenly felt like an asshole, but let out a breath. They needed to get out of here before someone showed up and started asking questions. Chara’s feet hit the ground outside and they dusted themselves off, glancing around.

They looked to be in some sort of underground castle which was actually pretty cool. The cave ceiling disappeared in the darkness above and, from the castle ledge, Chara could see a small city below, filled with tiny dots of light.

The sound of feet on rock caused Chara to whip around. The monster kid was back, hesitantly jumping to the ground. He shook himself, muttering a small ow, before coming beside Chara.

“What the hell is this place?” Chara asked him.

The kid smiled. “Oh, yeah. It’s the capital! My mom and dad say it’s a lot smaller than the old capital, the one we had on the surface, but it seems plenty big to me. Maybe when you feel better we can go exploring! Mom and dad let me go all the time and there’s some really fun shops and they always give out free things.” He frowned, “or maybe they just give me free things. I don’t know.”

“How do I get out?”

“Out?” the kid stuttered. “But you just got here! And you’re hurt, too. Why do you want to leave so soon?”

Chara glanced back at the kid, exasperated. He obviously didn’t know shit about the world and what people were willing to do to you when you overstayed your welcome.

“You should at least stay the night! That way you can leave all well rested,” the kid said. “Besides, mom is making pie for dessert. It’s fantastic. You shouldn’t leave before you get to try at least one slice.”

At that, Chara let out a breath, turning a thoughtful eye on the city below. It _would_ be helpful to have a good meal in them before setting out. There was no telling how hard it was to stay fed in this place, plus who was Chara to say no to dessert?

They turned back to the window and made to climb back into the room, not missing the tiny sigh of relief the goat kid made when he realized he had finally convinced Chara to stay.

“I’m Asriel by the way,” he said. “What’s you’re name?”

 

* * *

 

Chara stared at their features in the mirror. They had paid for a room at the Inn, needing space from the skeleton household—from Sans. They scrubbed at their face, a long breath escaping them.

 “What the hell are we doing here, Frisk?” Chara muttered. They could feel the other soul in the  back of their mind, quiet and sad, more distant than usual.

Sans had done a number on the kid. The only time Chara had felt Frisk like this was the last time they had pulled a genocide run, the time when Frisk had sworn they would never, _ever_ kill Papyrus again. The kid was silent for months, hurting too much to talk. When that happened, Chara had dusted the underground just on principle, hating it for silencing the one friend they had in this goddamned world.

Chara laid down, feeling for that place in the center of their being where Frisk was hiding. They felt a small pinch, then the sensation of falling, before their mind was in the void. Frisk was crouched in the corner, scratching at the floor with a stick. Their hair was stuck to their cheeks, making them look like they had been crying, and for once, Chara didn’t want to dust the fucker that had done this to their friend.

Because, as much as they loved Frisk and adored the little sweetheart, they had never really felt _understood_ by the other human. Frisk had a soft heart. Even when they did terrible things, they were still good deep down at their core. Chara was the opposite. Even when they did good, even when they freed the whole underground and tried to make everyone happy, they were still terrible at the root of their being. They were still something less than human.

Frisk didn’t see that. Sans did and for the first time Chara felt their loyalty split between the human and another being.

That was new. This was all so new.

“Hey, Frisky, darling,” Chara sing-songed, “how’s it cracking?”

The human glanced up, offering Chara a weak grin. “Hey.”

Chara settled beside their friend. Frisk had managed to conjure some snow out of the void (a trick that had taken centuries for the two to figure out) and had doodled a tiny picture of Sans in frost. Chara let out a breath, patting Frisk on the back.

“You have got to stop sulking,” Chara said.

“I’m not sulking.”

Chara gave them a withering look and Frisk deflated. With a sweep of their hand, the snow disappeared, restoring the void to it’s typical swathe of darkness.

“Okay, so maybe I’m sulking,” Frisk admitted, falling back so that they were sprawled across the ground. Chara followed suit, turning so they could watch Frisk’s expressions.

“Why, though? So Sans is pissed at you. Whatever. He’s been mad at us a million times before,” Chara pointed out, gesturing.

“Yeah, but that was different.” Frisk huffed, “that was—it wasn’t _real._ It wasn’t like I couldn’t go back and pretend like it had never happened, but now he knows _forever._ ”

“Looks like you screwed up then.” Chara sighed then looked to their friend, expression serious. “What if one of the timelines finally stuck?”

Frisk blinked.

“You heard me. What if all of a sudden we stopped resetting? What if we just—got stuck. What if all of a sudden we couldn’t erase everything we did? Would you change how you did things?”

“What sort of question is that. Of course I would.”

“I wouldn’t,” Chara said.

Frisk stared at them.

“I never do anything I can’t live with. If it all suddenly stuck, then fine. I’d be fine with that, because I never do something I can’t stand. I never do something that’s not me,” Chara affirmed. “If it all stuck and I had done something awful, that would be fine. It still wouldn’t matter. It wouldn’t matter at _all_.”

“It’d be forever.”

“For us, _every_ run is forever. Frisk, you still have nightmares about killing Paps. That’s awful and that’s something that gonna happen to you absolutely _forever._ If it had stuck, it wouldn’t feel less awful. When you go for a good run after a bad run, you aren’t redeeming yourself, you aren’t making things better because you can’t redeem yourself. Not ever. You’re always gonna remember the shit you did and nothing you do will make you forget it.”

“That’s awful.”

“I know,” Chara shrugged. They pushed themself up into a sitting position. “Even when things are permanent, that shouldn’t change how you act because it wouldn’t make things any less pointless. When you die, when everyone dies, it’s always erased. Even without a reset, it all goes away.”

“I just—he’s gonna be mad at me forever, Chara,” Frisk muttered. “I tried to apologize. I tried to make friends and I’ve always managed to before but this time he was just—so mad. I hadn’t gained a single ounce of LV and he was still so mad at me.”

“Of course he was. You tried to redeem the irredeemable.”

“So? What was I supposed to do? Just leave it?”

“ _Yes_.”

“Why? Why is it so bad that I tried to fix things for him? Why is it so bad that I tried to apologize?”

“ _Because what we did isn’t something you can make better_ ,” Chara snapped. “It was bad enough for Sans to watch us treat the Underground like a plaything. Then to just—” Chara shook their head, at a loss for words. “Look, Frisk, why do we say sorry to people?”

“Because it’s the right thing to do.”

“No, we do it because it makes us feel better about the shit we did,” Chara huffed. “Guilt sucks, but if you apologize, even if the other person doesn’t forgive you, you can say ‘well at least I tried!’ or ‘that asshole! It’s his fault for not forgiving me anyway, because I did tell him sorry _.’_ And yeah, maybe when you say you’re sorry you convince yourself it’s for the sake of the other person, but it’s really just for you. It’s really just to make yourself feel better.

“So you killed Sans’s family, his friends. You tortured him with reset after reset. You admit to him that the people he loves are basically nothing to you. Then you apologize?” Chara snorted. “Lord, why the hell should he forgive you? I wouldn’t! I’d be pissed, because what? You do all this to me and then think you can just make it better? You think you can just suddenly pretend like I matter to you? Hell no! Like, no wonder he blasted your ass. Did you ever for a second think about the position you were putting him in by pulling that shit?”

Frisk’s eyes darkened and they glanced away.

“If he’d accepted your apology, if he _ever_ accepts your apology, he’d be doing it for you and honestly, why should he do anything for the two of us? We destroyed him.”

“I want this to be over,” Frisk admitted then. “I just want it to stop. Why wont it stop?”

Chara let out a breath before turning to snuggle into Frisk’s side, “I don’t know.”

“There’s gotta be a way to make it better,” Frisk sniffled. “There has to be. I—I have to make it up to him.”

Chara let out a breath. “I know, Frisk, love. But you can’t. You just _can’t_.”

 

* * *

 

Asriel and Chara walked through waterfall, Asriel chattering incessantly. The crystals in this part of the underground were luminescent and beautiful. They reminded Chara of faeries. Their eyes then went to Asriel, watching as the tiny monster whispered something to one of the echo flowers.

This was a little bit of a fairytale wasn’t it? It made Chara uncomfortable to admit, but they actually liked it here. Asgore was sweet. Whenever Chara had a nightmare he’d let them snuggle against his chest and it made Chara feel small and safe. And Toriel? She was an unbelievable woman, like one of those super-moms Chara used to see on TV. It was clear she absolutely adored Asriel, absolutely _loved_ being a mother, and sometimes Chara thought that Toriel might love them too. Not to mention the fact that the moment she discovered Chara’s sweet tooth, she’d started keeping the cabinets filled with pastries.

It was a little fantastic.

It was actually _really_ fantastic.

“Chara! Chara, look at me!” Asriel shouted.

Chara glanced up and smiled. The little goat had somehow convinced the yellow bird that lived in waterfall to lift him in the air. He waved his hands and roared, “I am the god of hyper-death! Quiver before me!”

“Quiver before you’re body odor maybe,” Chara laughed.

“Hey! That’s mean.”

“Only saying it because I love you,” Chara teased.

It was then that the little bird’s strength gave out, Asriel slipping from its’s grip. The goat let out a little yelp and Chara dove forward, catching the kid before he could hurt himself. Of course the human immediately slipped on the slick rocks around waterfall instead,  landing in a heap beneath the tiny monster.

Asriel jumped up, “oh my gosh! Chara, are you okay? Oh, gosh, say something.” He spotted the scrapes on Chara’s knees and whimpered. “Oh my god, you’re _leaking._ Do I need to call mom? I’m calling mom. I hurt you. Oh, please don’t die.”

“Rei-rei, chill,” Chara said, picking themself off the ground. “I’m fine. See?”

“But you’re _leaking_!”

Chara snorted and leant forward to tug on the little goat’s ears, earning a yelp for their trouble. “it’s called blood, dumb-dumb. It’s what keeps your body moving.” Chara paused, thinking of some of the stranger monsters they had seen, “or, at the very least it keeps most people’s body’s moving? Anyone with a heart, I guess. Wait, do monsters bleed?”

“I don’t know!” Asriel threw his hands up in the air. “Why would I know a thing like that? Oh, are you going to be okay? Are you going to die?”

“ _No_ ,” Chara let out a breath of exasperation. Lord, what were they thinking? Of course Asriel knew nothing about injuries. He’d lived such a soft life. “Asie, look, it’s stopping already. Look.”

At their behest, Asriel glanced at the wounds. If Chara was being honest, the scrapes were pretty rough. Nothing they hadn’t been through before, but still, they stung. They weren’t about to tell Asriel that, though. The kid looked like he was ready to wheel them to a hospital at a moment’s notice.

Chara crouched down so that they were eye to eye with the little monster. “See this?” They pointed to their elbow, where an old scratch was beginning to heal. “It’s a scab. It’s what happens when the blood all dries up. It seals the wound up and makes it so you don’t lose all you’re blood.”

Asriel touched the scab and whimpered. “Why are you so _breakable_?”

Chara snorted and reached to wipe away one of Asriel’s tears. “Not as breakable as I look, sweetheart,” they said and offered the kid the warmest smile they could muster. It wasn’t much, but the monster finally relaxed under their gaze. “See? Everything is going to be fine.”

 

Asriel was just so unbelievably precious. Chara couldn’t believe someone so kind was able to exist. A part of them knew Asriel’s kindness would end up hurting him later on, but another part of them wanted nothing more than to keep the kid innocent for as long as possible.

It scared Chara how much they cared about Asriel. They’d never been this soft on anyone before and really, it was only a matter of time before it ended up hurting them. The Dreemurs would eventually kick Chara out over something and then what would they do? What would the underground be like if they didn’t have Asriel?

 

* * *

 

Chara shot up in the middle of the night, nearly falling off the skelebros’ sofa. Their breathing was hitched, chest burning. Something was wrong. Holy shit, what—their soul shuddered—they had a hollow feeling in their chest. They immediately went to find Frisk, reaching inside themself, and was met with nothing but a feeling of intense vertigo, like they were falling off a cliff.

Frisk wasn’t there.

For the first time since they had jumped into the Underground, Chara was truly alone. No Asriel, no Frisk, nothing. And a long time ago, they might have expected this to happen. A long time ago, they might have been able to shrug it off and keep on like nothing was happening, but now?

It took a moment for Chara to realize they were sobbing. They let out a scream of frustration, punching the spot on their chest where Frisk was supposed to be. That was enough to abate some of the panic licking at Chara’s brain, so they did it again. They clawed at themselves, wanting Frisk to appear to stop them, wanting to wake up from this particular nightmare.

They felt hands on them and struggled, screaming. They wouldn’t let themself be restrained again, they weren’t going back to the surface, they weren’t going back to being helpless. They would never let themself be bested ever again—

“Chara!” Sans snapped, blue eye sparking.

Chara immediately went slack in his grip, body turning to dead weight. Sans released them and they flopped against the back of the couch, hands shaking. Papyrus was standing a little ways away, wringing his hands in anxiety, and Chara didn’t have the energy to pull themself together and pretend like things were okay. They hadn’t had the energy to try and comfort someone in a long long time.

“Kid, what’s wrong,” Sans asked, voice low, eyes flickering over Chara’s frame. “What happened? Was it a nightmare?”

At that, Chara let out a broken little laugh, rubbing at their face. “No,” they said, because for once, things felt all too real.

* * *

 

 

Chara had never seen Asriel so upset.

They didn’t understand. Toriel wasn’t mad at them and, though Asgore was sick now, he was going to be fine in the long run. They hadn’t put enough buttercups in the pie to kill him. Really, they’d barely halved his HP, but still, Asriel wouldn’t stop crying.

Chara slipped out of bed, coming to Asriel’s. The little monster was curled up in a ball, pretending to be asleep, but Chara could hear his sniffles. They had been sharing a room for long enough now that the human could tell when he was really sleeping.

They prodded his side.

“Come on, Rei-rei, move over you big lug.”

“Go away,” Asriel sniffed and somehow managed to curl up into an even tighter ball.

 Flicking on Asriel’s lamp, Chara let out a breath. “Do you know me at all by now, kid? You really think that’s gonna make me leave?”

Asriel hiccupped. “Go away _please_?”

“Nice try,” Chara snorted and pushed their way into his bed, snuggling beneath the covers.

Asriel’s fur was unbelievably soft. It smelt like butterscotch and some nights, when Chara couldn’t stop dreaming about the horrors of the surface, they would sneak into Asriel’s bed and let the smell of him keep the nightmares away. They lifted their arm and Asriel snuggled into their side. Chara didn’t even tease him for his snotty nose, they just set to rubbing circles into the small of his back.

“What if I killed him?” Asriel whimpered. “What if I killed dad and mom’s just lying about him being okay because she doesn’t want me to worry? What if—what if she can’t fix it?”

“Asgore is fine,” Chara said. “Rei, your mom wouldn’t lie to you about that. He’s a big monster, okay? It would take like an entire field of buttercups to kill him. He’s gonna be fine. He’ll probably laugh about it when he wakes up.”

“But it’s not funny!”

“It kinda is, Rei-rei.” Chara smirked. “I mean, come on? Who puts flowers instead of butter in a pie? And then those flowers just so happen to be poisonous too! It’s the making of a train wreck. And of course after being complete idiots, we don’t even pay the price for it, because we were trying to do something nice for _dad,_ who didn’t even like the pie all that much but kept eating because we made it for him. I mean, god, it’s kinda absolutely hilarious.” Chara snorted, shaking their head in dismay.  

When Asriel didn’t join them in laughing, the human let out a breath, nudging his shoulder. “You wanna go to the wishing room?”

“Mom said—“

“What Toriel doesn’t know, won’t hurt her,” Chara said, grabbing Asriel’s hand. “Come on. You know I won’t let a thing happen to you.”

Asriel met eyes with them, before a small smile graced his features. “Yeah. I know.”

* * *

 

           

To this day, there was still something magical about the Wishing room. Chara sat nestled between two echo flowers, staring up at the blips of light. A long time ago, they’d told Asriel stories about the surface’s stars. It had been the only thing Chara could think of that might distract him from Asgore’s illness. The kid’s entire face had lit up. It was like Chara had told him about Santa Claus, instead of just sharing their memories of the night sky.

“Pretty sure I’m the one who’s supposed to be having nightmares.”

Chara glanced over at Sans, before letting out a breath, rubbing at their eyes. They hadn’t cried in ages, but, ever since they’d noticed the hole where Frisk used to be, they hadn’t been able to stop. It had made Papyrus frantic which, in turn, had annoyed Sans and Chara and, eventually, had driven Chara here for some peace and quiet. Now lo and behold, the goddamn judgement hall was upon them again, except this time Sans just looked worried, eye sockets bruised and tired looking.

“I was never very fond of humans, you know,” Chara muttered, hiding their face in the collar of Sans’s pilfered coat.

Sans took a seat next to them, leaning back against the cave wall. “From what I’ve seen, humans can be awfully mean.”

Chara snorted. “You don’t know the half of it. After all they did to me, I started wanting to die. That’s why I jumped down here. I was _looking_ to die. I told myself, best case, I finally off myself once and for all, and worse case I end up in a world of monsters. I thought that at least then I’d finally be around people as awful as myself. At least down here I would finally fucking belong, but then you all had to be so goddamn nice to me.”

At that, Sans laid a hand over theirs and Chara pressed their face into the crook of his shoulder.

“I didn’t deserve Asriel or Frisk of Papyrus or Tori. I don’t deserve you. I just—I came down here and you all should’ve hated me. With all the humans did to you, Asriel should’ve killed me first thing and taken my soul to Asgore but he _didn’t._ Instead he fucking—fucking loved me and trusted me and like always, I just had to fuck it all up!” Chara snarled, shoulders trembling.

“You killed yourself on purpose, didn’t you?” Sans breathed. “When you poisoned yourself with the flowers, you meant to die.”

“Asriel wanted to see the stars,” Chara wiped at their eyes. “So I came up with a way for him to get the  soul he needed to do that. I was gonna get him to the surface and then I was gonna get everyone the six souls they needed to break the barrier. Asriel didn’t even have to do it himself. If he had just let me use our body, I’d have taken all the Love. I’d have taken the blame and then everyone could’ve been free. Just six nobodies to kill and Rei-rei and everyone would’ve been so happy. It didn’t seem that big of a deal to me—to die for that. I’d never really had a good reason to want to die, but the Dreemurs gave me one and of course it ruined them. Like everyone who ever gives a shit bout me, I fucking destroyed them.”

The two lapsed into silence. Chara could feel Sans’s chest rise and fall. His bones hummed with magic and in the quiet of the Wishing Room, it served to lull Chara’s anxiety. They stopped shaking, instead focusing on the warmth radiating from the skeleton next to them.

“Frisk disappeared.”

Sans looked to them, shocked.

“I don’t know what happened. I just woke up and they were gone,” Chara chewed their lower lip, before glancing down at their hands. “I probably killed them now too.”

“Can you even do that?”

Chara snorted. “I don’t know, but I sure as hell found a way to do it anyway. That’s how fucking poisonous I am. Chara Dreemur: killer of the unkillable. Put that on my goddamn headstone, why don’t you.”

Suddenly it was all too funny. Chara covered their face, laughing, ignoring the feeling of Sans’s hands on their shoulders. They finally understood why the skeleton always smiled. They understood why, even now, Flowey still kept laughing.

Sometimes, you just had to accept the fact that your life really was one big joke.

* * *

 

           

Buttercups were absolutely nasty. Chara didn’t understand how Asgore could have stomached an entire pie made of the stuff, but then again, with the amount of tea the lump drank, he had probably destroyed all his taste buds ages ago.

Chara groaned, rubbing their stomach.

They’d tried to die a lot throughout their fourteen years of life, but this had to be the worst method they’d ever tried. It was bad enough listening to the Dreemurs cry over them, listening to Asriel’s broken sobs when he thought Chara was sleeping.

A part of Chara wanted to take it all back, but another part understood that they were doing this for good reasons. This might be the only good thing they’d ever do and, by golly, they were going to make sure it was done right. They were going to make sure the monsters made it out of the underground and, at this point, Chara knew they were the only one down here with the determination to do it right.

One fell swoop. A few people dead and they were out. Maybe Chara would even kill all of the humans just to make sure the monsters never  had to deal with the shit that sent Chara jumping down here in the first place.

Really, humanity was awful. Really, the monsters deserved this world. They were so goddamn kind, so good. They deserved the sun. The humans should be rotting down here instead, eyes sparkling at the idea of stars.

 “Chara,” Asriel clutched Chara’s hand, his face snotty, “I don’t like this plan anymore.”

 Chara didn’t either, but it was too late to go back now. It was all too late.

“I wish we could go stop,” Asriel sobbed. “I wish we didn’t do this.”

God, Chara just wished they had been born a Dreemur.

But maybe if they were good in this life, they could be a Dreemur in the next. Maybe if they did this one thing for the people they loved, God would finally grant them some Mercy.

 

 Chara didn’t expect for things to go so wrong in the end, but honestly, they had never been able to expect the extent of a Dreemur’s kindness.

* * *

 

           

Chara opened their eyes in a sea of darkness. They were back in the void, soul glowing red in their chest, and Frisk was there. They looked tired, but both of them had started wearing a permanent look of weariness these days. Sans too.

They were all just so exhausted.

 Then the void next to Frisk moved. At first Chara thought the other human was conjuring something from the void, then they felt Magic in the air. There was a third soul here.

Chara stumbled back, calling a knife out of the darkness, but Frisk tackled them before they could lay a mark on the intruder.

“Chara! Stop! He’s with me!” Frisk shouted.

“What the hell, Frisk! No one’s supposed to be here but us!” Chara snarled, but stopped struggling. They eyed the mass of darkness with deep suspicion, noticing a flicker of white.

A head appeared along with two malformed hands. The monster that stood before Chara seemed sad and all too shy. He crouched down and Chara noticed the cracks in his face. If the human didn’t know better, they’d say this thing used to be a skeleton, before he was cast into the void and chewed up into a million broken fragments.

“What the hell?” Chara asked again, watching the monster go to help Frisk to their feet. He cast a look to Chara before signing something to Frisk. Frisk shook their head, laying a hand on the monster’s.

“His name’s Gaster,” Frisk said. “He was a scientist.”

“Oh?” Chara practically snarled. “Well, nice to have a new headmate.”

“Chara—“

“Don’t ‘Chara’ me,” Chara snapped, watching Frisk flinch. “You disappeared! I thought you were gone forever! And now here you are with some goddamn blob! What the ever loving fuck, Frisk!”

“I told you I was gonna find a way to fix things,” Frisk said, like that explained everything.

“I told you there’s not a goddamn thing you can do!”

“But you’re wrong!” Frisk shouted. “There is! I found one. I found _him.”_

Chara was shaking. Whether it was the shock of having a third soul thrown into this hell or the relief of finding Frisk again that made them tremble, they didn’t know.

Frisk leveled a stare on them. “Chara, Gaster erased himself from the timelines. He can fix us. He can make this stop.”

Chara’s soul stilled.

“ _What_?”

 

           

* * *

 

As it turned out, Asriel would rather be killed than kill. It felt a little like a betrayal. It felt a lot like grief. The seeds from the surface clung to his fur as he dragged himself back to the throne room, pressing his back to Asgore’s chair. He was crying, Chara’s body clutched to his chest as he died.

Sharing his body with him like they were, Chara could feel every one of Asriel’s wounds. They were painful, throbbing, and Chara realized with a jolt that Asriel was losing feeling in his limbs. The human remembered teaching the little monster what blood was. Looking at him now, it was hard to see anything beneath the red.

“Chara, I’m so scared,” Asriel whispered.

His voice was small. Out of all the times Chara had tried to die, none of them had ever hurt like this. Asriel was so small. He was so kind and the humans had killed him. Why? Because they thought he had hurt Chara? The humans had done more to damage Chara than the monsters ever could.

Chara pressed a ghostly hand to Asriel’s cheek and he closed his eyes in response.

“It hurts,” he whimpered.

Chara felt their heart break. “I know, baby,” Chara wrapped their soul around his, holding him, trying to radiate as much comfort and love as they could manage. “I’m here. I’m not gonna leave you, okay? It’ll be over soon, love.”

“I didn’t mean to make you mad,” Asriel said.

Chara shook their head. “That doesn’t matter, Rei. I’m not mad. I could never be mad at you.”

“We were supposed to break the barrier,” Asriel whimpered, voice almost a whisper. “I let you down. I let _everyone_ down.”

“No, baby. You did everything right,” Chara hugged him. “It was me, Rei-rei. It was my bad idea. It’s always been my ideas. I thought the recipe said buttercup, I thought it was a good idea to make the pie, I thought—“ Chara blinked away tears. They were already dead. They shouldn’t be able to feel this much pain. “You’re perfect. It’s always been me.”

They felt Asriel’s heart slow. A part of Chara knew they could leave this body and spare themself the pain of dying a second time, but a bigger part knew they would sooner be trapped in an eternal hell than leave their little brother now.

“Is it scary?” Asriel asked then, “dying?”

“No. It’s not scary at all. It’s warm Rei-rei. It’s so warm here. There’s nothing—don’t be scared.” Chara kissed his forehead.

Asriel was back to being small now, his body already turning to dust. Chara’s soul felt a pull, something trying to tear them from Asriel’s side, but they snarled at it and dug in deeper, wrapping a desperate hold to Asriel’s soul.

“Rei, do you feel that?” Chara rasped. “Do you know how much I love you?”

Asriel let out a breath. All the fear seemed to bleed from his body and Chara felt his soul pulse on last time before shattering into pieces.

 

Dying wasn’t supposed to feel like this. It wasn’t supposed to be such agony.

 

* * *

 

 

Really, Chara had been dusted too many times to count. It wasn’t scary for them anymore. Nothing was really scary for them anymore, not even the idea of being erased forever. Honestly, the thought was a little relieving. Still, Chara wasn’t sure. There was a chance something would go wrong. There was a chance things might get even worse after they threw themselves into the core, that their world would turn into something even more awful than this, and Chara knew the resets. Chara knew how to handle things now. They could do this.

They didn’t know if they could do much else though.

 

 

They were too stuck in their head to notice Undyne’s approach. A hundred times they’d crossed through waterfall without running into her, but if Chara had learned anything over the years, it was that your first mistake was often your last.

The spear seemed to come out of  nowhere, Undyne following after. Chara snarled. Their HP was so low, their LV still at 1. It had been a long time since they’d tried to end a fight with Undyne without bloodshed.

They were so unbelievably slow. Chara’s mind wasn’t in the fight. They were too busy thinking of Frisk and Asriel and Sans. Too busy remembering all their deaths before this. Tiny nicks from Undyne’s spears began to cover their body, blood staining their shirt, and Chara set to running. If they could just make it across the bridge to hotland, they’d survive another day. They’d be home free and maybe they could even go on and get eyes on the core.

 

 A part of them wanted to be the one to go through with erasing their body. They didn’t want Frisk to have to do it. They wanted to be able to kill themself one last time, just for the hell of it.

 

 A spear slammed into Chara’s leg and the human fell, screaming. They should have taken one of Sans’s kitchen knives, just in case. Anything but the fucking stick Frisk was so fond of. Another spear hit Chara in the side.

Undyne towered over them. It was funny to think of how sweet she was in the other timelines. It was funny to think of how, if Chara had just taken a day out of their life, they could’ve befriended Undyne by now and kept all this from happening. It was so goddamn funny.

Chara braced for the last blow, ready to find themselves back in the void. Then there was the sound of magic, the feeling of arms around them, the sensation was falling. They looked up to see Sans holding them, the skeleton having teleported them to the other side of the cave. Undyne’s spear was lodged in a bloody spot on the floor, the Fish monster blinking away surprise at the sudden appearance of the skeleton.

 “Hey kid,” Sans smiled down at them, “thought I heard something _fishy_.”

Chara groaned, pressing a hand to their leg.

“Sans, what the hell are you doing?” Undyne roared.

 Sans took a moment to wink at Chara, before turning back to Undyne. Chara could feel the unmistakable hum of the skeleton’s magic, the tell-tale spark of blue escaping from his left eye.

 “Dunno, Undyne,” Sans shrugged. “Just helping out a friend in trouble.”

  “Friend?! That’s a human,” Undyne raged. “That’s _the_ human. The last one we need, Sans. The last one everyone needs to be free.”

 Sans shrugged. “Yeah, I guess they are.”

“So move,” Undyne summoned a row of spears. “Or I’ll make you move.”

 “Undyne, I just want you to ask yourself something real fast,” Sans’s entire body stiffened as he raised a hand, summoning a row of blasters, “do you really wanna start this fight with me?”

 “I don’t want to hurt you Sans, but I wont let Asgore down either!”

 At that, the cave erupted in a furry of magic. It was strange. In all their time in the underground, Chara had never seen Sans fight another monster. He immediately summoned a wall of bones to protect Chara, and the human stared out in awe, watching the skeleton dodge Undyne’s blows with ease.       

 How had they ever beaten this monster in a fight? The way Sans moved—it was like he knew Undyne’s every thought. Still, even if he won this fight, it wasn’t going to end well for him. Sans wasn’t supposed to hurt people. He was only supposed to hurt Chara.

With that thought, Chara struggled to their feet, ignoring the searing pain in their leg. “Sans! Stop! This isn’t worth it!”

Sans glanced back at them, using a wall of bones to block one of Undyne’s punches. “Like I’m just gonna let her kill you for no reason!” he snarled.

“No reason! It’s for the good of all monsterkind!” Undyne snarled and landed a blow on Sans, sending the monster flying backwards.

Sans hit the wall, letting out a small oof as the air was knocked from his body. His eyes went wide as he realized Undyne’s next attack was aiming for Chara and the human felt the exact moment when the fight went too far. They felt the exact moment Sans decided he one hundred percent _cared_ what would happen to Chara in that moment.

He summoned a Blaster and Chara heard  the surge of magic, the sound making their blood turn cold. Then the light cleared and there was no more Undyne. Instead there was a large pile of dust where there used to be a monster.

Sans’s eyes went wide, the blue sputtering out immediately as his actions sunk in.

“Oh fuck.” His knees went out, bones rattling.

Chara pushed to their feet, running to grab the skeleton around the shoulders. Sans’s hand clutched at his mouth like he was trying to keep from being sick and he shook so badly his entire body seemed to vibrate.

Another thing Chara had broken. Wasn’t that hilarious? The first run in a while Chara had decided to leave everyone alone was the first run they’d finally shattered Sans once and for all.

“I didn’t—she was aiming for you and I just—I panicked. I really panicked,” Sans shivered. “Oh fuck. What did I do? What the hell did I do?”

“You saved my life, you idiot,” Chara squeezed his shoulder. “Load of good it did you too. You shoulda known better. It wouldn’t have mattered if you’d just let her kill me. No one would’ve cared.”

Sans’s hand found theirs  and he looked at them, eyes wide, still shaken, but determination shining through. “I would have, kid. I’d have cared.”

 

They found a nook in waterfall to rest in. Sans was too badly shaken to safely teleport them anywhere and Chara’s leg wouldn’t get them back to Snowdin. Instead, the two hid behind one of the falls, listening to the water tumble. Sans laid his head against Chara’s.

“Heh, guess I’m not as good as I pretend to be,” he said, self-deprecating smile plastering itself across his face. “I’m a higher LV than you now, kiddo.” He started to laugh, but for once, Chara didn’t join in.

Sans wouldn’t have killed Undyne on his own. Sans would’ve never have done any of this on his own, the same way Asriel wouldn’t have died, the same way Frisk wouldn’t have committed genocide.

Chara felt sick to their stomach and, as Sans drifted off to sleep, all they could think of was how it was finally time for things to stop—before they twisted Sans beyond all recognition.

             

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> soo this is a day (two?) late. sorry. the pacing in this chapter was driving me crazy. still is tbh. but eh, i give up. Enjoy? *shrugs* but its longer than usual, so maybe that makes up for things?
> 
> finally get into true mega underdark territory in the next chapter. Get ready to meet Dark!Sans. 
> 
> should be up in a few days. i have two tests this week though, so no promises. 
> 
> also just wanna say, i had way too much fun writing chara as the doting older sibling in this. idk but their cynicism next to asriel's cinnamon bun-ness makes my life.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay, so gaster is becoming a bigger part of this fic than i originally thought, so i added some tags for that. Your typical "experimentation, gaster is a dick" sort of stuff. I'm not sure how experiment-without-your-consent this gaster is gonna be yet. We'll find that out together!
> 
> Also this chapter and the next one were originally supposed to be posted together, but for the sake of getting a chapter up before friday, i decided to split them in two *jazz hands*. Plus the chapter would've been like ten thousand words if i hadn't split it. 
> 
>  
> 
> anyway, here's wonder wall...

Sans woke up on his couch in Snowdin, an odd mixture of relief and sorrow flooding his bones. Relief that he wouldn’t have to deal with a timeline where he had killed one of his friends, sorrow that even when he tried his best, he still couldn’t keep anyone safe. All his choices always seemed to end with someone getting hurt. Sans didn’t understand.

Why couldn’t he do any better than this?

The skeleton slumped against the couch, checking his watch, watching as the second hand counted down to Papyrus O’clock, the taller skeleton pounding down the stairs and into the kitchen.

“Sans!” Papyrus shouted, snapping Sans to attention. “You didn’t even say anything when I told you about my new puzzles! Did you doze off again Lazybones?”

Sans shrugged, staring down at his hands. Last night they’d been covered with Chara’s blood, his attempts to wrap the human’s wounds weak at best. Worse had been the dust clinging to them, gritty beneath the slick red of the blood, a reminder of his growing LV. Sans flinched at the thought.

“What were you even doing last night? You know it’s bad for your back to fall asleep on the couch!”

“Yeah,” Sans slumped, eyes closed. His voice sounded broken even to himself. “Hey Paps? You mind if I take the day off? I’m not feeling so hot.”

Papyrus paused in the archway to the kitchen, eyes glowing orange with worry. It was tiring to see him care so much. Sans had forgotten what it felt like to be so concerned. “Of course brother! What sort of Skeleton would I be if I made you work when you were sick!”  

“Thanks bro.”

 

The moment Papyrus left the house, Sans curled in on himself, shaking. He grit his teeth so hard they felt like they were about to crack. The pain was sharp, but not enough to keep his brain from churning over yesterday’s (and was it still yesterday if it had technically never happened?) events.

In a sudden panic, he called out his soul, hands shaking, needing verification that his sins had been erased. The heart was tiny, pulsing blue with magic, and completely devoid of LV. Sans let out a breath and allowed the heart to burrow back into his chest.

It didn’t matter. None of it mattered. He could have killed Papyrus and it wouldn’t have mattered in the long run.

Still, Sans couldn’t get himself to stop shaking.

 

* * *

 

 

It was two weeks later when Sans heard something tapping on his window. He arched his back, listening to the bones pop, and went to open the drapes, expecting a string of Christmas lights, maybe even Undyne. He was surprised to find himself eye to eye with Chara. The human’s cheeks were chapped from the snow and their nose was running. Sans immediately threw open the window, pulling them inside.

“Holy fuck, Chara, you’re freezing!” Sans sputtered, leading Chara to his bed. He wrapped the human in his blanket, immediately throwing his jacket over the kid’s shoulders for good measure. “What the hell, kid?”

Chara shook their head. “Didn’t want anyone to see me. Had to go the long way.”

They rubbed their hands together and Sans pressed close, pushing his magic outwards so that his bones began to radiate warmth. Chara immediately buried their head in his shoulder, lifting the blanket so that Sans could slip in beside them. The skeleton hesitated, the gesture uncharacteristically friendly. The two had made leaps and bounds during the last run, but they had never really done much more than comfort each other.

Besides, Chara had never struck Sans as being the sort that would want to cuddle.

After Sans hesitated a moment to long, Chara let out a huff. “Come on you worthless sack of bones. I’m _cold_.”

At that, Sans slipped in beside them, flinching when the human pressed their cold feet to the crook of his knee. Chara let out a sigh at the sudden warmth. “Why the hell is Snowdin so cold, anyway? What the fuck is up with you monsters and unbearable climates. Hotland is way too hot, waterfalls too wet. Even the fucking ruins are too dry. Like really, you’d think you all lived in fricking Zootopia.”

Sans cocked a brow at that and Chara shook their head.

“Surface thing, don’t ask,” they shrugged.

“Well, can I ask why you didn’t want to be seen by anyone then?”

Chara flinched.

“Sore spot?” Sans's eye lights darkened momentarily. They didn’t sense any LV coming from Chara, but killing wasn’t the only thing you could do to a monster. “You didn’t hurt anyone did you?”

“No. God, worry much?” Chara rolled their eyes. “Despite appearances to the contrary, I’m not _actually_ a homicidal maniac. Like _really_.”

“Okay then—?“

“I didn’t want anyone to see me because I’m not planning on staying long and, on the off chance anyone remembers me when I leave, I don’t want them to feel sad about me being gone. I don’t—I _never_ wanted that, okay?”

Sans took a moment to process that, his brain churning. He opened his mouth, shut it, and could almost feel his mind try and fail to comprehend the human’s words. “Wait, what?” he said at last, feeling very eloquent.

Chara grinned. “Turns out, Frisk didn’t vanish. They went looking for answers and they found someone—some _thing—_ that says its going to help us.” Chara shifted. “It says it knows how to erase us from existence once an for all.”

At that, Sans’s soul stilled. He tried his best to come up with a response to that, but his brain kept getting stuck on the simplest things. Like the fact that Chara made the best goddamn brownies in the underground, or the idea that his jacket was starting to look more at home on the human than it did himself. He shut his eyes, magic pounding in the back of his skull.

“Fucking crazy, right?” Chara laughed, pushing closer. They were so small. Why did Sans always seem to notice how small they were at the worst of times? “Never thought we’d get a way out, but Frisk really can be one determined bastard when they want to be. Looks like they just needed a little push from you to really get going though.”

“ _Frisk_ did this?” 

Chara shook their head in exasperation when Sans’s eye lights went out at the mention of the other human’s name, thudding him in the arm.

“Stop. You two have to fucking stop it, okay? Look, a couple days—” Chara scrunched up their face, “a couple _whatevers_ a go, we had all the time in the world for you two to get over yourselves, but now we don’t okay? And I don’t like beating around the bush, so here's the deal, Sans. Remember what I said about me telling people truths they don’t want to hear?”

Sans nodded, eyes focusing on the darkness near his door, mind finding a middle distance between the current conversation and the warm spot in his brain where nothing really seemed to touch him.

“Well, do I have a doozie for you now. So just—listen, because Frisk and I wanna get this shit done before… well, before things get too messed up. So let me just talk, okay? You’re not as mad at Frisk as you pretend to be. You know why I fucking know this? Because if you were that mad at Frisk, you sure as hell wouldn’t be sitting here letting me press my cold toes to your femur. Because you know Frisk and I did the same shit. We did and if you were that mad at Frisk about what they _did_ you wouldn’t be acting all cozy with me. So all this fury you got? It’s not about them at all really.”

“Is it now?” Sans growled. “And you’re so sure of this fact?”

“Yeah. I’m actually dead on and I got something else for you to hear too.”  

Sans looked at them.

“You were _never_ mad at us. You’ve always been mad at you,” Chara told him then and Sans felt a cold sense of dread at hearing it said aloud like that.

Here was the one truth Sans knew: no matter what situation he was put in, the skeleton was very good at lying to get himself out of it. And he didn’t just lie to Paps or Grillby or even Chara, Sans was the absolute best at lying to _himself._ He’d learned how to lock all his emotions away in a tiny little box and drown them beneath a sea of alcohol and copious amounts of naps. Because his prized solution to any given problem? That’s right, _just try not to think about it._  

As such, he never really paid his emotions much mind. He ignored the more complex issues in lieu of the simpler ones. But now Chara had to go an lay it out for him. Now Chara had to take something Sans had spent _so_ _long_ burying and drag it out in the open.

“I’m not going to sit here and tell you to make up with Frisk.” Chara went on. “I don’t really give a damn if you ever forgive us or not, because, quite frankly, we don’t deserve it, but goddamn Sans, don’t you think its about high time you forgave yourself?”

Sans flinched, hard.

“ _Do you think even the worst person can change? That they can be a good person if they just try?”_ Chara echoed his words from the judgement hall, using their hand to cover their right eye in a mock impression of the skeleton. “You were never asking that about me, were you? Because Frisk and I were never the worst person you knew. Because Frisk and I were dumb and innocent, even when we were killing, but you were neither of those things. You were supposed to know better, right? You’re supposed to protect these monsters and you _still_ didn’t. Because time and time again, you let us go on our merry way. You let us murder _everyone_ and you know—you _know—_ that the only thing worse than hatred is complete and utter apathy. There in the judgement hall, you were never asking us to believe in ourselves, were you? You wanted us to believe in _you.”_

Honestly, those lines had lost their original meaning a hundred resets ago, but Chara was right. After a while, they’d stopped being about the human. As much as Sans had been asking the kid to turn back and change, he’d also been pleading with himself to do the same. To start giving a damn, to stop treating everyone around himself like they were only good for a god damn joke.

“People can’t change,” Chara said then. “Maybe when we’re really little we can, but after a while its like we harden into stone. There's really no give after that. Like yeah, if you apply enough pressure we _maybe_ can give you an inch, but besides that? Or cores never really get any better or worse. We just are what we are.”

Chara laid a hand on his arm then, the touch soft. “Sans, Frisk and Paps are just better people than we are. They’re just good, deep down and even when they do bad things it doesn’t change the fact that deep inside, they’re good. Us though? We can try, but we’re never gonna live up to them.” the human broke off. “It’s stupid to blame yourself for just being who you are. You do your goddamn best, Sans. Maybe it's not the best other people might be able to put in, but it’s _your_ best and you need to stop hating yourself for it. You try, Sans, and honestly that’s a lot better than what  most people do.”

Sans gritted his teeth, glancing away. Papyrus had always been the optimistic one, the one who believed that given enough love, anyone could grow into a kinder monster. He didn’t understand. He didn’t know that sometimes, no matter how _hard_ you tried to live up to other’s expectations of yourself, you just couldn’t. Even when Sans wanted to do better, he often found himself falling into the same old routine.

“That’s just an excuse for being lazy,” Sans said at last.

Chara snorted. “Oh, god, you are one stubborn fool. Here, Sans, I have a question for you now. Two people try their best to be kind. For one person, its second nature. They don’t have to think about it a bit. It’s not a conscious choice to be kind, they just _are._ For the other person though? It’s a struggle. Every day they claw at themself to do the right thing, to be the right person, not because they can’t think of another way to be—in fact, being _any_ thing else would be easier than what they’re trying—but they do it because, even when its hard, they know it’s the right thing to do. And the second person screws up. A lot. The second person cant hold a candle to the natural kindness of the first. They just can’t, but they keep trying, even when they fail. Now let me ask you this, whose kindness is more valuable?” 

Sans glanced away sharply. “You should have your own talk show, kid, because you sure as hell like to ramble.”

Chara snorted. “Fuck you too, comedian. Now come on,” they patted his leg, “I need you to take me to hotland before everyone starts waking up.”

 

* * *

 

“Are you sure about this, kid?” Sans asked, eyeing Chara.

The kid was on edge, hands shoved into their pants’ pockets as they rocked back and forth on their heels. The smell of magic was heavy in the air, a constant buzz that reminded Sans a little of the static his own soul produced.

It was strange. Sans made a point of never coming this far into the labs. The place was unnerving. It just felt wrong whenever he thought too hard about it, but standing before the door to the core, Sans couldn’t help but get an intense sense of déjà vu, like he had come here a hundred times before. In fact, all of this felt suddenly familiar, which was odd. Sans’s memory was something else, holding a thousand runs between his eyes, re-playing them in perfect blasted technicolor at the slightest opportunity. He’d never had to deal with such a gaping hole before.

Had he come here before the resets started?

It felt important, like Sans should know this place more intimately than he knew his own name. 

“Of course I’m sure,” Chara rubbed at their arms, snatching the skeleton from his thoughts. They had Sans’s coat on their shoulders, protecting them against the cold of the labs, and still their legs were covered in goosebumps. “I’m ready to be done, aren’t you?”

Sans paused, but nodded. He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t exhausted.

“Okay, then let's just get this over with, all right?”

With that, Sans grabbed Chara’s hand and blipped them into the Core’s main room. The sound of magic was suddenly deafening, making Sans’s teeth vibrate, his soul seeming to resonate with the power of the core. Which was strange. Not even Papyrus’s magic resonated with Sans the way the core did now and the skeletons were brothers for Christ’s sake.

The skeleton shrunk back, his grip on Chara’s hand tightening. He knew this place. He’d come here before; he’d done all this before. Did that mean this wouldn’t work? Had the two of them tried this only to forget all about the core once the timeline reset?

Chara let out a little breath, staring at the never ending pulse of magic. They wrung their hands in the hem of Sans’s coat, before turning to the skeleton, eyes wide.

“It’s funny. I’ve tried to do this a hundred times, but never—“ they glanced down. “It’s weird to not just die, but to _erase_ yourself. It’s just weird.”

Sans pressed a hand to their shoulder. “We don’t have to do this now.” This entire place just felt so _wrong._  “Like you said: we have all the time in the world. Nothings making you do this now.”

Chara’s hand closed around his and they squeezed tightly. “No. The sooner the better.” They offered him a weak grin, “I’ll just get cold feet otherwise.” Then Chara sucked in a breath, before moving to take off Sans’s coat. Sans stopped them, shaking his head.

“Keep it,” he said.

“Sans, you're not gonna be getting it back from this,” Chara jerked their head towards the core.

Sans shook his head. “That’s fine. It looks better on you anyway, kid.” There was no way he could take the jacket from the kid now, because who was he to take something from a kid who was risking everything for the underground’s happiness? Who was he to take a single shred of comfort from this child now?

Nodding, Chara moved towards the core, and Sans caught them by the hand. “You’re a good person, Chara,” he said suddenly, needing the kid to know this much. “You need to forgive yourself too, okay? Just know, know that I will _always_ think you’re a good person.”

“You’re gonna forget all about me in a hot second,” Chara smiled weakly and it was true and it was also terribly sad.

“I’m so sorry I won't remember you,” Sans said then.

Chara pushed him away. “No, Sans. Don’t be sorry for something like that. You deserve to forget all this, okay? You deserve to go back to being normal.” They wiped their eyes on the sleeve of their coat. “Now you should get the hell out of here. With all this determination going into the core, this room is gonna be a mess.”

“No way. I’m seeing this one through.” Sans offered them a lopsided grin, “besides, I can always teleport away if things get hairy.”

Some of the fear seemed to bleed from Chara’s features at that, their expression settling into a sort of grateful calm, suddenly heartened by the knowledge that someone cared about them enough to keep them from dying alone. They hugged Sans once, the motion almost desperate, before turning towards the awning that surrounded the core.

The stark lighting turned their body into a swathe of darkness. Chara then pressed their hands to the railing, eyes on the white-hot stream of magic.

They seemed to hesitate, before looking back a Sans, determination making their features harden. Then they climbed the railing and jumped.  

Sans shut his eyes, unwilling to watch as the magic ripped Chara’s tiny body into a million pieces. The core pinkened, then turned red. The roaring became horribly loud, heat pushing outwards. The sound reminded Sans a little too much of his blasters. It reminded him of the judgement hall.

A distant part of himself realized that he should leave now—the room was filling with magic, his bones beginning to burn, and this was his last run after all—but he didn’t. he just stood and watched as the magic began to swallow him, a deep exhaustion settling in his marrow.

 

* * *

 

           

Sans woke up on a tile floor, confused as to how he had gotten there. He remembered collapsing on the couch last night, having dragged himself away from one of his physics books just long enough to make it to the sofa and snag some sleep before his patrol the next day. But now he was—somewhere?

Groaning, the skeleton pushed himself into a sitting position. He didn’t feel hungover, so why the hell didn’t he know where he was? He was dressed in his usual t-shirt, but his hoodie was missing, which was weird, because Sans could count on one hand the number of times he’d gone somewhere without it. Paps had to practically pry it from Sans’s grip just to wash it.

Slowly, his awareness broadened. There was a roaring sound in his ears, like the sound of rushing water, and it made his head throb painfully. Sans rubbed at his eyes, then stiffened when he finally realized where he was.

The Core.  

Despite the familiar air that permeated the place, Sans knew for a fact that he had never been here before. So why he had suddenly (what? Sleepwalked here? Is that what he had done?) decided to come here was beyond him.

He pressed on his skull. The sound of the magic here was driving him crazy, wheedling its way into his marrow like it was trying to dig out his soul. Sans shivered, a little unnerved by how similar the magic felt to his own, before pushing to his feet.

Sans managed to teleport just outside the core before falling back, panting and confused. He felt utterly exhausted, magic stores low, feeling like he hadn’t eaten properly in weeks. What was wrong with him? Why did his bones hurt like they’d been broken a thousand times over? Why were his cheeks covered in dried tears? Why the hell was he in the goddamn core of all places?

Footsteps drew Sans’s attention to the end of the hall. He met eyes with Alphys and slumped forward in relief. As it was, Sans didn’t think he could make it up the stairs right now, let alone drag his sorry ass all the way back to Snowdin. Worse, he didn’t even have his phone which meant he wouldn’t have been able to call Papyrus for help if he wanted to.

Alphys let out a little squeak, running forward. “Sans! Have you been here the whole time?” She grabbed him around the arm, eyeing him worriedly. “D-did you come here because of the overload?”

“What?” Sans asked.

“The core. It just overloaded. I had to lock down the room,” she nodded to the door behind Sans, before looking him over once more. “Goodness, Sans. You look exhausted. Let's go upstairs and I’ll call Papyrus to come get you.”

At that, she began helping Sans up the stairs. The skeleton was suddenly glad for his diminutive size. If he’d been a little bigger, he might’ve been too much for Alphy’s to handle. As it was, the two of them were almost the same height.

“What were you doing down here anyway? You two never come into the labs.”

Sans shook his head. “Wish I knew the answer to that one.”

“What do you mean?” 

“I don’t have a clue how I got here,” Sans shrugged, acting more nonchalant than he felt, just wanting to forget all about this mess. “Last I remember I was passed out on the couch.”

“Oh,” Alphys squeaked, eyes going wide.

“Yeah,” Sans agreed. Oh seemed a pretty decent way to respond to all this. 

           

* * *

 

Or maybe this predicament wasn’t as easy to forget as Sans wanted it to be because, according to Papyrus, Sans had woken up on the couch _sixteen days ago._ That meant that for some strange reason, Sans’s brain had decided to just delete more than two weeks of his life which, honestly, that was a little scary.

Sans had always prided himself on his mind. He could memorize textbooks after a single read through, but now entire _days_ were just falling out of his dumb skull? And why did he feel like he had just broken out of hell? His soul felt sore, like he had been stretching his magic, and his body ached. And then for some reason Sans kept on expecting to find a gash across his sternum, but that was crazy right? This was all just crazy.

“You woke up on the sofa and seemed really down,” Papyrus said, passing Sans a second helping of spaghetti. “You said you weren’t feeling well then locked yourself in your room. You really don’t remember?”

Sans shook his head, taking a large bite of spaghetti. He felt a sudden surge of annoyance towards the way Papyrus was looking at him, concern making the bigger skeleton’s eyes glow orange, and that was weird too because even when Papyrus was screaming at the top of his lungs for no reason, Sans never got _annoyed_ at him.

“Do you know what I did with my jacket?” Sans asked then, pushing the feeling away, compartmentalizing it to examine later, after things had calmed down some.

“You had it with you yesterday.”

Sans frowned at that.

“You can’t find it?” Papyrus fretted.

“I wasn’t wearing it when I woke up,” Sans told him.

“Oh, well,  we’ll find it, I’m sure,” Papyrus said then, some of his somberness abating. “I’m glad your appetite is back though brother! You really do seem to be feeling better.”

“Besides not remembering anything,” Sans’s frown deepened.

“Well, yes, there is that, but at least you’re okay now! You remember this morning, don’t you?”

“Yeah, bro. Nothing missing there.”

“Then I’m sure there;s nothing to worry about! Just a side-effect of getting better, maybe?”

 

And Sans might’ve accepted that if it weren't for the fact that everything seemed so _off_.

It was like Sans had woken up to find that another person had been living his life and had forgotten to put things back after leaving. His bedframe was missing, dismantled and propped against the wall, mattress resting on the floor, and there were notebooks packed with information Sans didn’t remember writing. When he flipped through one of the new books, he found it filled with mundane facts—when papyrus was born, what Sans’s favorite food was, what school Paps went to as a kid. It was hastily scrawled, like the person writing it was trying to do so before they forgot something vital, but it was definitely in Sans’s handwriting.

The skeleton set the book aside, resting his head against the bookshelf. He shivered before casting an eye to his closet, the door half open, clothes spilling out onto the floor. After a moment of digging, he found the coat Papyrus had bought him last Christmas—a vain attempt by his brother to try to convince Sans to throw out his ratty blue one.

The coat was similar to his old one, fur billowing out from the hood, the cuffs unbelievably soft, but it was a dark navy in color, almost black, with a bright blue heart stitched in the front. Sans pulled it on, immediately relaxing into the warmth.

A part of him knew he should look harder for his old coat, but a small voice told him that the search would be fruitless. The coat was gone— _erased_ —and wasn’t that a funny word for his brain to come up with?

* * *

           

The next morning, he awoke with a sharp pain across his ribs, something like a bad dream making his eye spark blue. Papyrus was sitting on the floor beside Sans’s bed, rubbing circles into the small of his Sans’s  back.

Sans blinked, forcing his magic to calm down enough for his eye to stop sparking. “Paps? What are you doing here?”

Papyrus offered him a sad look. It felt like the taller skeletons eyes had been glowing non-stop the past two days, soft magic trying to calm his brother’s stuttering soul. Sans wished he could do the same for Papyrus, but his right eye had stopped being able to glow properly ages ago and it just felt strange to even try it anymore.

“You were shouting in your sleep,” Papyrus said. He shifted. “I didn’t mean to come in without asking, but your door was unlocked and you sounded so scared…”

It was strange hearing Papyrus sound so uncertain. Sans smiled, “that’s fine, Paps. You were just trying to help.”

“R-really?” Papyrus sputtered, eyes going wide.

“Uh, yeah?” Sans titled his head to the side. Why would Papyrus think he wasn’t allowed in Sans’s room? Suddenly, Sans wanted a list of everything he’d said to Papyrus the past two weeks, just so he could find a way to wipe that look of uncertainty off his brother’s face. “Why would I be mad at you for trying to wake me up from a nightmare?”

“It’s nothing, it's just lately you haven't seemed to really want me in here,” Papyrus glanced away. “Or really want me around at all, even.”

And that made Sans’s entire soul want to break. He threw himself at papyrus, wrapping the skeleton in a hug. “Why would I not want you around? You’re the coolest big bro ever, Papyrus. I don’t know what I’ve done lately to make you doubt that, but I was dead wrong, okay? No one has a cooler brother than me.”

At least that made the taller skeleton break out beaming, everything seemingly back to normal. Papyrus excused himself to go make breakfast and Sans couldn’t help a strange sense of dread from settling over his bones in his brother's absence. He lifted his shirt to inspect his ribs, so certain he’d find a wound there. But, of course it was fine.

 _Everything_ was _fine_.

Sans shook himself. He just needed to go on patrol, clear his head, and maybe work on reassuring Papyrus that he wouldn’t want anyone else as a brother.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ah, such happiness. Sans seems so content.... now lets crush him. 
> 
> Also my apologies for no flowey in this chapter. like i said, he's supposed to be here, but i did split this chapter in two. so sorry, not sorry? 
> 
> next chapter should be up around monday, maybe before if i get a sudden burst of inspiration. 
> 
> and as always, your comments warm my cold dark soul.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay, so the pacing in this chapter is really fast (mostly because sans spends the whole chapter in the middle of a panic attack) so its probably the shortest one so far. Sorry on that, but ay, i do try to update every like three days or whatever, so you should get your fix soon enough? *smiles nervously*
> 
>  
> 
> anyway, heres my tumblr if you guys wanna check it out and talk to me and stuff: https://mifrunner.tumblr.com  
> sometimes i draw stuff. mostly i just screw around. so yeah, theres that.

* * *

 

Sans couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something different about the underground. There was something important missing, something more than the past two weeks, something _vital._ His head throbbed every time he thought too hard about it. It was like there was some sort of barrier in his brain, keeping him from finding the answer.

He had nightmares. He would wake up shaking, a sick feeling settling over his bones. Sans had always had bad dreams, ever since he and Papyrus had come to Snowdin, but never ones like this. Most nights, he’d wake his brother up with his cries.

It was awful. It all felt so _awful_.

Because even though Sans forgot the dreams upon waking, he couldn’t forget the cold sense of dread they instilled in him.

 

Sans glanced up sharply, the sound of rocks moving catching his attention. He was in waterfall, wandering through one of the many passageways. The sound of running water was like static at the back of his skull, keeping him from thinking too much, which was honestly a blessing right now.

Movement at the edge of his vision caused the skeleton to whip around. The odd thing was, Sans _knew_ was alone in the cavern because as much as he pushed his magic he was unable to sense another soul. Then Sans blinked, watching a small yellow flower pop its head from the ground and smile warmly.

  The sight made Sans tense, magic coiling in his chest, because he couldn’t sense a soul coming from this monster and that was _wrong._ This flower was perverted and its very existence was horrifying.

“Howdy,” the flower tilted its head. “I’m Flowey. Flowey the flower.”

Sans took an instinctual step backwards. He pulled up his magic, ready to teleport away from this awful situation, only to feel vines wrap around his ankles, pulling him forwards. He felt his single hit point stutter and was slammed against the cavern wall, a grunt of pain escaping him.

(And why did that feel familiar? Sans had never been in a fight before. Loosing HP shouldn’t feel so gut-wrenchingly familiar.)

“Awfully skittish now, aren’t we?” The flower laughed, face contorting into something black and menacing. “I’m not here to hurt you, comedian.” (* _That comedian*_ San’s brain supplied, like he’d heard those words somewhere before.) “I just came to ask you what the hell is going on.”

“Hey, buddy,” Sans chuckled nervously, rubbing at the back of his skull, “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Flowey slammed Sans against the ground before pinning him to the opposite wall, smiling at the skeleton’s grunts of pain. “You and I both know that’s a lie! You’re the only one who knows what I’m talking about. So tell me! What did you do with them?!”

“I haven’t done anything with anyone!”

“Liar!” The flower practically snarled. “Their soul disappeared. It’s nowhere in the underground. Now the only monster I know that has the know-how to try something like that is you, so tell me, Sans, what the hell did you do with Chara?”

“I—“ Sans shuddered, an intense pain striking his skull. “Ch—Chara?”

           

It felt like getting ripped to shreds, like his mind was being torn in a thousand directions and it was all sharp edges and painful memories.

Sans didn’t know he was screaming. He didn’t feel his magic bubble forward, eye sparking. He wasn’t aware of the flower shrinking back in fear or the fact that his eye was illuminating the entirety of the cavern. All he felt was pain and _knowledge_ slamming into his body like a scythe made of molten lava.

 

 _Chara_.

 

* * *

 

_Papyrus believed in everyone, even Sans. The smaller skeleton would never understand his brother’s optimism, but he found he liked it anyway. Its gentle warmth made the frigid reality of the resets a little easier to handle. No matter how many terrible things the human did each timeline, at least Papyrus was there to keep Sans positive._

_Then the human killed Papyrus. Then the human killed Sans’s brother._

_And it was the worst pain Sans had ever felt in his life. Even as he held the human’s tiny body in his arms, watching as blood seeped from the child’s wounds and onto the golden tile of the judgement hall, even as Sans settled into the knowledge that he was a child-killer, he still couldn’t stop thinking how the worst pain in the world came with the knowledge that Papyrus was dead._

_Then it reset._

_And Papyrus kept dying, no matter what Sans did. No matter what Sans tried. So Sans learned to ignore the pain. Then he learned to stop caring._

_N o t h i n g   r e a l l y   m a t t e r e d   a n y w a y._

_Sans had never thought that Chara could be so kind to him. He remembered the feeling of their bones snapping beneath his attacks, the smell of their body burned by the magic of his blasters. It was funny how he could forget his own favorite color, but he could never forget the smell of burning human hair._

_The kid was supposed to be absolutely awful. They weren’t supposed to sound so   r i g h t   all the time._

_“You’ve never let yourself want anything, have you?” Chara said, looking up from the movie suddenly._

_Papyrus was asleep on the sofa, Chara and Sans sitting on the floor. They didn’t touch. Sans still didn’t feel comfortable with the human, even when he knew Chara had been given plenty of opportunities to dust him by now._

_“What I want doesn’t matter,” Sans shrugged._

_“Why? Because you know the truth of things?”_

_Sans frowned. “Hard to enjoy something when you know how pointless it all is.”_

_That made the human laugh. They wiped at their eyes, resting their head against the sofa cushions. “Funny. You think the Glitches matter more because you know and I think they’re pointless because they don’t. Two sides of the same coin, really. Either way, someone’s miserable.”_

_The lab felt familiar. Why did it all feel so familiar._

_“Don’t be sorry,” Chara said. “You deserve to forget all this, okay? You deserve to go back to being normal.”_

           

* * *

 

Sans had tears streaming down his face. He looked to where Flowey was sitting in the corner, the flower’s eyes large with fear, and felt an intense hatred burn in his chest.

“You idiot,” Sans wiped at his eyes, voice thick. “You fucking idiot,” he repeated and watched Flowey’s eyes contort with anger.

“Wrong answer,” the flower snarled and Sans felt vines rip through his chest. He felt his soul shatter and he wanted to laugh. Sans was such a goddamn failure; he couldn’t even find a way to die happy. Of course he had to remember his hell of a life before finally being dusted.

 

* * *

 

Then Sans woke up. He was on his hands and knees in the labs, staring down at the tile floor. He could hear the buzz of the core’s magic, the sound like a gnat bouncing around the inside of his skull.

“No,” Sans stared at his hands, eye’s going wide. “Oh fuck. No.” This couldn’t be happening. Flowey had killed him, right? He should be dust. He should be gone. Things should finally be fucking _over._

Tears pricked Sans’s eyes and he whipped around, pushing to his feet despite the pain that ripped through his body. He glanced around wildly, looking for Chara. The kid had to be here. The kid had to have been the one to cause the reset.

Except Sans was alone.

He teleported outside the Core, ignoring the intense wave of vertigo the action caused him. He caught himself on the wall, gritting his teeth. Maybe it wasn’t the same day. Maybe it wasn’t a reset at all… maybe it was something else. Anything else.

Alphys appeared at the end of the hall. Her eyes widened at the sight of the skeleton. “Sans! Have you been here the whole time?” She made to grab him around the arm, but Sans shoved her away, listening to her little peep of surprise and wanting to laugh.

“Alphys, what day is it?”

“S-sans?”

“The day, Alphys! What’s the day?” Sans snarled urgently, hating the look of fear his actions incited, but unable to control himself through the panic.

“Uh, it’s the fifteenth, I think?” Alphys squeaked.

Sans’s knees threatened to give out, his soul going cold. Far away he saw Alphy’s mouth move, but he couldn’t hear the words. He couldn’t hear anything beyond the panic that was surging through his body.

The ruins. He needed to get to the ruins and fast.

Sans stood up straight, pushing Alphys away when she made to help him, and teleported.

           

* * *

 

Making it to the ruin’s door in Snowdin felt like getting stabbed in the chest. Sans knew that if he took another shortcut, he might deplete his magic enough to fall, but the skeleton didn’t care. He just needed to make it to the yellow flowers. He just needed to see if Chara had reset too. Gritting his teeth against the pain, Sans shut his eyes and took a moment to catch his breath, before teleporting inside Toriel’s kitchen.

He landed on the table, a loud crash ringing through the house, and let out a breath, his exhaustion catching up with him.

“Oh my!” Toriel let out a cry of alarm, before running through the archway and grabbing Sans. He felt her healing magic touch him, the sensation warm, and shut his eyes. “Oh dear. How did you get here, child?”

Sans shook his head. “I just,” he had used too much magic too fast. Already he could feel his soul stuttering, even with the help of Toriel’s magic. Her eyes were sad. Sans wondered how many times she had watched a child die before. “I need to get to the flowers. _Please_.”

“You need rest dear.” Toriel laid a hand on him, but Sans shoved her away, making a sprint for the door.

He ignored her calls for him to stop. He ignored the feeling of his soul growing cold, his limbs heavy. Instead he pushed through the exit of the ruins and stopped dead, the circle of flowers before him, cold sunlight filtering through the hole above.

There was no child. Sans fell to his knees. Chara, Frisk, _someone_ should be here. The reset should’ve started with the human falling. There was no—oh god no—

Hands gripped Sans by the shoulders. The skeleton’s soul felt heavy in his chest. He met eyes with Toriel, ignoring the feeling of his limbs crumpling to dust.

“The human? Is Frisk here?” Sans managed.

Toriel shook her head, eyes wet. “I’m so sorry, my child. I’m so s—“

Sans felt his soul shatter.

 

He had to wonder how many times Toriel had watched a child die.

* * *

 

Sans woke up on the floor to the labs and couldn’t get himself to move. Was Chara always this depleted after resetting or was it different for a human? The skeleton covered his mouth, but couldn’t stop himself from retching, the sound pitiful.

This couldn’t be happening. _This just wasn’t happening._

“Now don’t you look like a sorry sack of shit.”

Sans glanced up, meeting eyes with Flowey. The flower was grinning cruelly, head turned to the side.

“Looking at you now, I’m guessing you didn’t plan on this.”

Sans shook. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“When you destroyed Chara,” Flowey laughed.

“I didn’t destroy Chara. They jumped,” Sans gestured towards the Core, vision spinning. “They were trying to stop the loop. They were—“ Sans covered his mouth, fighting another wave of nausea, “they were trying to help. This was supposed to stop.”

At that, the flowers eyes went wide. He looked to the core, “You mean you weren’t trying to steal their power to reset?” his eyes went back to Sans, drawn by the sound of the skeleton’s retching, and he froze. “ _Shit_ ,” he swore, before the door to the core opened and he quickly vanished beneath the tiles.

“Oh my god, Sans!” Alphys grabbed the skeleton by the arm. “Oh gosh. We have to get out of here, okay? The core it just overloaded. It might happen again. Come on!”

Sans pushed her away. She looked at him, shocked, before noticing the darkness in his expression.

“S-sans?” She stuttered.

The skeleton covered his mouth. He felt so sick. He looked back to Alphys, then teleported away.

* * *

 

Sans wasn’t even supposed to have to remember the resets. He was supposed to get a chance at being happy. He was supposed to get a chance at being _normal_ but it had all gone to shit. And now Sans was the one causing the loops. Now Sans was here, without even Chara to keep him sane.

He was supposed to get a chance at being happy, instead he hit the floor of his room in Snowdin, pain lancing through him, and swore beneath his breath, unable to stop shaking. In a sudden flash of anger, Sans gripped the edge of his bookshelf and threw it across the room, using his magic to splinter the wood to pieces, pages of notes scattering across the floor. He took to tearing at everything, rending whatever his hands touched, needing to hurt and destroy and _stop._ Needing everything to just please _stop_. 

Nothing felt real. Nothing was real anymore. It was just an endless loop, Sans alone in the underground for all of time.

Sans heard Papyrus calling his name, but the sound was distant. The feeling of his brother’s magic pinning him in place felt so distant. Papyrus grabbed the tiny skeleton around the arms, pressing Sans to his chest, holding the skeleton as his struggles ceased in the face of sudden exhaustion.

“Sans, it’s okay. I’m here. Please stop. Whatever it is, it’s okay,” Papyrus muttered into Sans’s skull. “It’s going to be okay.”

 At that, Sans began to laugh.

 

He couldn’t remember the last time things had felt remotely okay.

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> mwahaha. i said i was going to break him, didn't i? 
> 
> Also, the long awaited Flowey appearance! Merry angst-fest. 
> 
> Next chapter should be up on wednesday or before if i get hit with a sudden wave of inspiration. As always, your comments feed my dying artist soul and thank you all for reading.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> major trigger warning for suicide in this chapter. sorry.

* * *

 

Papyrus sat with Sans in his lap, rocking the skeleton back and forth, humming something soft and tuneless under his breath. His little brother wouldn’t stop shaking. For three days know, Sans had been slipping between sleep and panic attacks. Other times Papyrus would check on his brother and Sans would be staring at the wall, expression blank and distant, mind far away.

The little skeleton had always had emotional problems, ever since he’d lost the use of his right eye light, but Papyrus had never seen Sans like this. He was afraid the skeleton might fall, like so many monsters did when they lost hope, but his brother stayed, trembling and miserable and muttering in his sleep.

Sans’s shaking subsided. He laid his head against Papyrus’s shoulder and let out a tiny breath. Papyrus hadn’t been able to find his brother’s ratty blue hoodie (a part of him wondered if that was the cause of Sans’s emotional distress, but his brother seemed too deeply rattled for this to be over something as small as a missing coat) but he had found a navy one in Sans’s closet that was nearly identical. Now Sans nestled his face in the expanse of fabric, seemingly too exhausted to do anything else.

“Come on, brother,” Papyrus ran a hand across the little skeleton’s skull, a little unnerved by the stillness of Sans’s soul, “do you want to go downstairs and eat something? It’s been a while.”

Sans grit his teeth and that, at least, was more of a reaction than he'd given Papyrus this morning.

“Now don’t be a baby bones,” Papyrus chastised softly. “You need to eat if you’re going to keep your strength up.”

“Not hungry.”

“Don’t be silly,” Papyrus moved to take his brother’s arm and Sans swatted Papyrus’s hand away, eye’s going dark.

 _“Don’t tell me what to do_ ,” he growled and Papyrus backed off, not liking the sudden darkness in his brother’s voice (but still preferring it to the emptiness Sans's voice had held before).

“All right, all right,” Papyrus nodded, standing. “I’ll go see about cleaning up your room then! And when you're feeling up to it, we can eat whenever you want!”

 

* * *

 

At that, Papyrus set to sifting through the destruction in his brother’s room. Most of it was unsalvageable. The mattress would need some heavy mending and the closet doors were shattered beyond repair, great splinters of wood covering the floor around them. Papyrus had cleaned up some of the mess last night, stacking Sans’s papers and clothes in the corner and now set to ridding the room of the trash that covered the floor.

A part of him didn’t understand how Sans could live like this, how Papyrus could _let_ Sans live like this, but then Papyrus remembered that Sans didn’t really like anyone in his room. His brother was particular about his things, attached to them the way a child was attached to a favorite teddy bear and deeply protective of them, especially the things he deemed important enough to place in his room. 

Like his coat, which was now gone.

Papyrus let out a breath, rubbing at the back of his skull.  When Sans was feeling better, he’d be upset over his broken things. Papyrus didn’t want that, but it was unavoidable. Still, the taller skeleton hoped to lessen the blow by making the destruction seem as small as possible.

“Pap?”

Papyrus started, dropping the trash bag he’d been holding. Sans was at the door, leaning against the frame, eyes on the floor. He had the blanket from Papyrus’s bed wrapped around his shoulders, the bottom dragging around the hall floor, and used his thumb and forefinger to pick at the fabric.

 “I think I’m hungry now.”

Papyrus had to squash his immediate enthusiasm towards Sans’s statement and ended up nearly choking on his words, coughing a few times. That earned him an amused look from Sans, a small smirk creeping along his brother’s face.

“You okay there, bro?”

“Yes. I'm perfectly fine,” Papyrus swallowed then stood, scooping Sans in his arms and holding him close, “I’m just happy to see you up is all!”

 Maybe this meant things were on their way back to feeling normal. 

* * *

 

 “You don’t deserve him.”

 Sans stiffened, glaring at the Flowey. The skeleton was sitting on the front porch, wrapped in one of Papyrus’s blankets. Sans had been sleeping in his brother’s room for the past week, too tired to protest the coddling, but this morning Papyrus had set Sans on the stoop to get some fresh air while he finally changed the sheets.

Now Flowey was here, grinning like he’d been waiting all day to see Sans which, maybe he had been. The two of them were the only ones who remembered the resets now that Chara and Frisk were gone, after all. 

Sans clenched his jaw, not liking the thought. A part of him was still waiting for the human to appear. A part of him still couldn’t believe that the universe could be this cruel.

“Go away,” the skeleton growled at Flowey, but lacked the energy to make the statement even vaguely threatening.

"How rude," Flowey grinned. “You’d think you’d at least be sorry after what you did to me. You erased my best friend after all, trash bag. Now here you are, soaking up attention from a brother you don't deserve. What do you have to say for yourself?”

“I told you, Chara jumped.”

“ _Sure they did.”_

“Do I look like I wanted this?” Sans snarled suddenly, his tremors returning. He pulled Papyrus’s blanket tighter and let out a breath, forcibly calming himself. He’d decided a few days ago that panic would help nothing. He’d decided he was tired of being afraid. He was tired of being anything. He was just so goddamn tired. “Do I look like I planned this?”

Flowey glanced down, puffing out his cheeks, then sighed. “No,” he admitted. “So Chara really threw themself into the core _willingly?_ ”

Sans nodded. “Wouldn’t you?”

“No!” Flowey sputtered, then caught himself. “I mean, sure this place is awful, but I’m not going before it does! No way!”

“Whatever keeps your HP up, pal.”

At that, the door to the house opened, prompting Flowey to quickly tunnel into the ground. Sans looked back at Papyrus and offered his brother a small grin.

“Hey bro.” Sans looked back towards the town. Monster kid and a few others were playing in front of the Gryftmas tree, laughing wildly. A distant part of Sans remembered playing like that with Papyrus, back when they had first come to Snowdin. Back when living hadn’t felt like work. “You feeling _bed-_ ter now?”

“ _Sans,”_ Papyrus groaned, but only half-heartedly, his eyes softening at Sans’s joke. He took a seat beside the little skeleton, eyes following Sans’s to the gaggle of kids. “They look like they’re having fun.”

“Yeah.”

“Sans? I've been meaning to ask you something...”

Sans looked to his brother, one brow cocked. 

“What happened to you?”

 

* * *

 

Sans didn’t mean to storm out on his brother, but really, how the hell was he supposed to answer Papyrus’s question? What _hadn’t_ happened to Sans by now? Still, he hadn’t meant to upset Papyrus. He _never_ meant to upset Papyrus, but he kept doing it anyway.

The door to the ruins appeared before him, closed as always, and Sans slumped against it, the snow seeping into the bottom of his shorts. He let out a breath, eyes sliding shut. He’d let Papyrus die. He’d stopped _caring,_ stopped _trying._ By the end of things, Sans had almost let the kid pass through the judgement hall unscathed because really, did it even matter when he stopped them? Did it even matter when he did _any_ thing?

He was a hypocrite. At least Chara hadn’t lied to themself. At least Chara and Frisk had outright _admitted_ that the others didn’t matter to them. Then Sans had to go and argue and attack and feel, when really he knew Chara was right all along. How long had he known that to be true? How long had he been pretending otherwise?

Because the thing was, Sans didn’t _want_ his friends to be meaningless. He wanted Papyrus’s happiness to be important. He wanted all of them to be fucking important, but, because of Sans and the goddamn resets, they weren’t and that was horrible. It was bone wrenchingly awful and it hurt worse than a knife to the ribs to admit.

“Fuck,” Sans rubbed at his eyes, his entire body aching.

He wished Chara was still here, but, for once, his mistake was permanent. He should be happy for things to move forward, even if it was just by a few weeks, but what the hell were a few weeks anyway? They were a blip in the grand scheme of Sans’s existence.

Really, Sans thought he might be older than God at this point.

 

* * *

 

           

Sans dreamt about the Core. He dreamt about Chara standing before the stream of light, about the magic swallowing their tiny body. He dreamt of the smell of burning human hair, the sound of the magic roaring, filled with the human’s determination.

He dreamt that he jumped after Chara. He dreamt that he followed them into the nothingness.

And these were such happy dreams.

            

* * *

 

Papyrus didn’t know as much as his brother did about the world. He didn’t know about stars or quantum physics or chemistry, but he _did_ understand people. He knew what made them click—what made them snap. He knew when they needed a friend and when they needed space.

So when Sans started cleaning out his room, packing his things in cardboard boxes and taking them _somewhere_ Papyrus knew to be worried. The taller skeleton stood in the doorway and watched as his brother’s room was emptied save for the mattress on the floor and the treadmill Papyrus had given Sans years ago.

Sans looked around at the space and let out a breath. Papyrus had fixed the holes in the walls, painted the sad grey a much brighter blue, and Sans just looked at it with sad eyes, like the sight made him feel heavy.

“Sans, what’s wrong?” Papyrus ventured.

Starting, Sans blinked at him, like he had forgotten Papyrus was still there. “Wrong?” his eyes went back to the empty room, “Aw, nothing’s wrong with it Pap. I love the color and everything and the new sheets are nice too. I forgot what clean sheets felt like.”

“Then why--?” Papyrus said.

Sans shrugged, the motion halfhearted. “Just seemed time to pack some stuff away. The place was pretty empty without the trash anyway.”

Papyrus gave his brother a sad look. Sans’s room could easily be a guest room now, with all distinguishing features removed. Even the treadmill had been pushed in one corner, as if the room might double as a gym if Papyrus wanted it to. It didn’t look like something Sans would call his own.

“We can go to the dump tomorrow and find you some new things! Something to spruce the place up a bit,” Papyrus said then, trying to sound positive.

Sans flashed him a tired smile. “Sure, Pap. Whatever you say.”

 

* * *

 

That night, Papyrus didn’t sleep. He sat near the door to his room, listening for movement, even the tell-tale _pop_ of Sans taking a shortcut. He was rewarded for his patience by the sound of Sans’s bedroom door creaking open.

 Papyrus held his breath. he didn’t want to intrude on his brother’s privacy, but something in his gut told him that things were _wrong,_ that Sans shouldn’t be trusted alone right now.

He followed his brother outside, praying Sans didn’t teleport. He needed to keep track of his brother, keep tabs on Sans’s soul right now, and though Papyrus knew he could find his brother anywhere he might go in the underground, he didn’t know if he could reach his brother quickly enough to stop him from doing something—something dangerous.

Thankfully, Sans seemed to be taking his time, strolling through the dark of Snowdin like he was on an afternoon walk. Everything seemed to interest him and he even stopped to lay one hand on the stone of the INN, the curve of his body sad and nostalgic.

They reached waterfall, and Papyrus quickly recognized the path they were taking. Why would Sans want to go to the wishing room this late at night? Papyrus would have been happy to take his brother in the morning. A walk through waterfall was always enjoyable. Sans knew he just had to ask.

His brother stopped and Papyrus noticed they weren’t the only two monsters here. There was a small yellow flower ahead of them, sitting in front of an Echo flower. Papyrus ducked behind a corner, crushing down all emotion, praying for his soul to stay quiet. He was close enough to his brother now that Sans might sense him if he felt anything too strongly and, though it felt like a betrayal of trust, Papyrus didn't want Sans to know he was here just yet. 

“And then you say ‘No, no, no, Rei-rei, _I_ wanna play the villain,” the yellow flower shook the stem of the echo flower, making the other plant look like it was talking.

 _“Rei-rei,”_ the echo flower repeated. “ _I wanna play the villain.”_

“But Chara, you got to play the villain _last_ time,” the yellow flower pouted, then whispered something to the echo flower.

 “ _I made a much better villain than you ever did, Mr. God of Hyper-dork,”_ the echo flower repeated.

“Hey, that was cool and you know it!”

“ _Cool as Hotland maybe.”_

Sans cleared his throat, causing the yellow flower to whip around suddenly.

Its face scrunched up and it turned away, as though the sight of Sans disgusted it. “Oh. It’s _you_. What do _you_ want, trash bag?”

“Came to talk to you about something,” Sans muttered. The skeleton crouched down so that he wasn’t towering over the little flower. “I told you what Chara did, how they were hoping for all this to stop.”

“Yeah,” the yellow flower glanced back at the echo flower, expression sad. “Now let me guess, you’re gonna do the same thing. _Figures_. I’m the only one that has any willpower in this stupid place and _now I’m gonna be all alone_ ,” it sing-songed, before it’s expression contorted into something dark, voice going deep, “ _again.”_  

“I’m sorry, Flowey,” Sans said.

“Like that means anything. I don’t even care what you do anyway.” Flowey grumbled. “Why the hell are you even telling me any of this? It's not like you and I were ever friends.”

“Because. You’re the only one this affects. You deserve to know what’s going on,” Sans told him. The skeleton let out a breath, sitting cross legged on the ground. “I don’t know if the loop is gonna stop when I jump in the core and if I die and it doesn’t, that means it’ll probably be you who is responsible for the loops after that.”

Papyrus’s blood ran cold at his brother’s words. It was one thing to be afraid for his brother’s safety, and entirely other thing to hear Sans say outright that he was planning on dying.

“Unlike you, I think I can _handle it,”_ Flowey growled.

“I know, kid,” Sans sighed. He shook his head in exasperation. “Lord, Chara was right. It’s one thing to die, another thing to just erase yourself. I just, look kid, I have something for you—a real big secret, okay?—but I need you to make me a promise in exchange. Deal?”

Flowey gave Sans a suspicious look. “What could _you_ have that I would want?”

Sans nodded his head towards the echo flower Flowey had been playing with. “A friend.”

The yellow flower immediately stiffened. “What makes you think I'd want another friend after what you did to Chara?“

“I’m not _saying_ you want one, but you _might,_ okay? If the loop continues, you might want the option of having someone else like you. So what do you say, petal-boy, deal?”

 Flowey pouted, but nodded. “Fine. What do you want?”

“I want you to promise you’ll look out for my brother,” Sans said. “Make sure he never remembers me like I remembered Chara. Make sure he’s okay.”

“Look after a stupid glitch, easy-peasy.” Flowey glanced away. “But I gotta tell you, trash-bag, being forgotten isn’t too fun. It sucks, actually.”

“Nothing a pile of dust can complain about,” Sans said. “Look, my brother is the best, the absolute _best._ Not a single monster holds a candle to him, especially not me. And because my brother is so great, if he even _kind of_ remembers me after I’m gone, he’s gonna tear the underground apart looking for me. And he deserves to find happiness, not a miserable bag of bones like me.”

Flowey nodded.

“All right then, now yours: Alphys has a few other seeds like the one she used to make you, all left over from the determination experiment. I don’t know where she put them, but I bet they’re somewhere in the true labs, probably near the extractor.”

“How do you know that? You _hate_ the labs.”

“Trust me, kid. When you’re the judge for the king, you learn everyone’s secrets.” Sans winked, “you plant one of those seeds, you’ll end up with another monster like you. Hell, you could even try planting them over Chara’s grave. If any bit of them is left there, you might be able to wake them up like Alphys woke you.”

Sans made to stand, only to be stopped when Flowey grabbed his sleeve with a vine. “Wait,” the flower stuttered, then backed off. “You—you really mean to do this, don't you?”

“Yep. Only thing left to do now, I figure.”

“You could wait. Have a little _fun_.”

Sans shook his head. “Nah. I’d rather go before I hit that point. Just seems more humane that way, which, really, is the last thing I deserve but, hey, I never was good at judging _myself_. Never was in the job description anyway.”

“When are you gonna do it then?”

Sans mulled it over—actually _mulled_ it over, like killing himself was nothing more than another speck on his schedule. Papyrus felt sick. His bones were cold and it took every ounce of self-control he had to keep himself from shaking and alerting the two monsters to his presence.

“I guess I should do it tonight,” Sans sighed. “Heh. Is it selfish to wait a day? Sleep in my bed one last night, maybe even—” Sans stopped, sucked in a calming breath, then continued, “maybe even spend another day with my big bro before doing it? Is that wrong of me?” he paused, then shook his head, “god, this is all just so hard.”

And then he was crying and Papyrus couldn’t take that. He felt his magic flare instinctually, eyes glowing, and the two monsters whipped around, both of them stiffening, the flower immediately disappearing into the earth.

“Pap,” Sans sighed and wiped at his eyes, voice thick. He didn't even sound surprised, just _defeated_. “Heh. I didn’t see you there. Figures though. Nothing ever goes smoothly down here, now, does it?”

Papyrus couldn’t move. It was like he was frozen in place. “I—” Papyrus swallowed. “ _Sans_?” his voice broke. “Did you mean all that? Are you really—” The taller skeleton felt tears pour down his face and suddenly Sans was beside him, rubbing Papyrus’s back and making soft noises in an attempt to calm the other skeleton.

It really only made things worse. Only highlighted the fact that Papyrus’s brother—his _brother—_ was planning on dusting himself and didn’t even expect Papyrus to remember him afterwards.

“It’s gonna be okay, Papyrus. You’re gonna be okay. Trust me on this, all right?” Sans muttered. “You just gotta trust me.”

“Trust you?! Sans, you _can’t_ do this.”

“You’ll be fine, Paps. You won’t even remember me anyway.”

“Of course I will! You’re my brother!” Papyrus swallowed hard. “You’re my _brother_ , Sans. I could never forget you. Not ever!”

Sans gave him a sad look. “Never is a really long time, Pap.” And he moved to leave and Papyrus couldn’t let him do this. He could never let Sans do this.

Sans was his brother! They were supposed to take care of each other. Papyrus wouldn’t give up on him, even when Sans seemed so intent on giving up on himself.

His brother’s magic flared, the beginnings of a shortcut forming, and Papyrus lurched forward, pinning Sans with his magic.  Sans hit the cavern floor with a whump, soul glowing as Papyrus held him in place.

“Aw, Pap, no need to feel so blue over all this,” Sans groaned, pushing himself up on his elbows, straining against Pap’s magic.

“I can’t—Sans, I won’t let you do this!”

That made his brother's entire body go rigid. "Let me?" Sans laughed, the sound broken. " _Let_ me? _Since when did you get a say in this_ _?_ ” He snarled and Papyrus jumped back just as a wall of bones erupted from the ground.

He grabbed Sans again and his brother let out a frustrated growl, left eye glowing a mix of cyan and yellow.

“Damn it, Papyrus! Let me go!” he seethed.

“Not unless you promise not to dust yourself!”

“I can’t do that!” And Sans's magic flared despite the hold Papyrus had on his soul. The smaller skeleton moved into a shortcut, body glowing blue, and Papyrus pulled his brother back into existence, flinching at the cry of pain that elicited from his brother.

“God, you don’t understand. None of you understand,” Sans laughed softly. He slumped, exhaustion settling over his eyes. “I’m so tired, Papyrus. There’s no point in doing this. It’s not gonna help anyone, especially not me.”

“I don’t care. I’m not giving up on you, brother.” Papyrus cried, hot tears flowing down his skull. “I don’t care what you tell me, Sans. I don’t care what your reasons are. None of them are good enough! There’s no reason that’ll make loosing you okay!”

Sans’s expression darkened. He looked at Papyrus, and there was something awful and hopeless in his eyes. His entire body seemed to be saturated with defeat. “I'm sorry, Pap, but I just need it to be over,” he wiped at his eyes. "I just want so badly for it to be over already." 

Papyrus opened his mouth to argue, but the next thing he knew, vines were erupting from the ground, Flowey slamming him against the far wall. Papyrus’s skull rang and he crumpled to the ground, disoriented.

“God, another moment of this and I'll  _barf,_ " Flowey complained. "Get out of here, trash bag, so i don't have to listen to another one of your mushy explanations." 

Sans flashed the tiny monster a grateful look before vanishing in a blip of light. Papyrus felt his heart break. He struggled against the flower's hold on his body and was pinned against the opposite wall for his efforts. Panic clawed at Papyrus's chest. 

“I have to stop him. I can’t—please let me go—”

Flowey shook his head. “You glitches are so goddamn selfish sometimes, you know that?” He said and Papyrus didn’t understand. Papyrus didn’t understand any of this, but he knew one thing: he was not letting Sans die anytime soon.

           

* * *

 

Sans appeared before the core and slumped over, feeling awful. The hum of the room’s magic made his soul vibrate in his chest and he had to push down a brief wave of nausea, rattled by his fight with his brother. He had never wanted Papyrus to be hurt. That’s why he’d cleaned out his room, that’s why he’d arranged to have all traces of himself locked away. He never wanted Papyrus to have to remember him. He just wanted to make the break clean, as painless as possible. 

Then again, none of Sans’s plans ever went well. His current predicament was a prime example of that. That’s why he preferred to sit back and leave the decisions to monsters who weren’t half as fucked up as he was, except there was no one else who could deal with this besides Sans and, unless he found a way to stop this, the skeleton would always be alone. Always. 

“Well, Chara,” Sans scrubbed a hand across his face, bracing himself, “here goes nothing," and Sans jumped. 

 

There was a momentary sense of weightlessness before his body was sucked into the stream of the core, magic arcing through his bones. It felt like getting thrown in lava, every inch of him erupting in pain. Sans opened his mouth and screamed, the noise awful, the buzz of the magic deafening.

The worst part was, his soul wasn’t taking any damage.  His body was burning, bones painful, but his single hit point remained. The core's magic felt more familiar than ever. It felt awful and horrible and it felt so goddamn familiar and fuck, Sans just wanted it to kill him already. He wanted to die. He wanted his soul to stop being inflated like a balloon, wanted his mind to stop vibrating with the frequency of the core.

Why did this feel familiar. Why did all of this seem so familiar? Sans remembered everything that had ever happened in his life. He was certain he would have remembered something as painful as _this_.

Then the humming intensified and Sans was thrown from the stream, body slamming against the far wall, still horribly intact. His vision went black, mind feeling loose and hollow, and a bit like it was being pulled apart.  

Sans sensed something dark looming over him, dread creeping up his spine. He felt someone breathing near his ear and heard a cloak shuffling against the tile floor. Terror gripped his chest and it didn't matter that Sans was alone, it didn't matter that there was nothing there, because it all felt too  _real._

           

“ _Y̷̳͂̒o̵͖̾̈́u̸͖̖̍̂ ̷̝̈́͂d̶͍̎i̶̼͊d̵͓̼̃n̴͖̉̃’̶̭̦̾͑t̵͎̍ ̷̩̉r̸̜̾̓e̶̯̘̅̂a̴̞͗̇l̷͔̿l̶̝̟̅̅y̶̝̯͌ ̷̖͚̽͠t̷̖̣͆ẖ̶̽̆ḭ̶͂͂n̷̺͇͊͝ḱ̶̛̳ ̴͈̌̏y̷̡̦͒ŏ̴̄͜u̴̱̲̽’̴̛̰̆d̴̮̏̔ ̸̟̹͗ẻ̵̼͝s̴̮͌c̶̡̞̎å̷͖̐p̸̡̞͆e̸̠̕ ̵̪̖̈̍t̸͚͖͗̎ḧ̵̪́̕a̴̛̤̚͜t̶̮̃͊ ̷̯͔́̎e̴̛̐ͅa̸̳̍s̸̥͑͘ḭ̶̳͝l̵̰̒̄y̷̗̒͗,̴͎̑̋ ̷̠̏̌ḑ̷̝̏̉i̸̳͉̕d̶͔̱̎͗ ̴͈̀́͜y̵͍̭̎͌o̸̠͋ǘ̶̼?̵͍̄̎_

 

And Sans soon found that he couldn’t stop screaming.

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just in case you couldn't read it, the glitch text says: You didn’t really think you’d escape that easily, did you? (yes, this is Gaster speaking)
> 
> Also, i have a really hard time writing Paps for some reason. I hope he didn't come off as too OOC. I really tried. 
> 
> Get ready for some Gaster flashbacks next chapter!
> 
> Next update should be by saturday or sooner. Then expect a lot of updates between then and wednesday because fall break, woo hoo! 
> 
> As always your comments fill my sad artist soul with determination and thank you so much for reading!


	7. Gaster Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sans remembers Gaster and wishes he didn't.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im am so sorry. this is _so _late. I got a major case of the sads after uploading the last chapter and didn't feel like doing much beyond lying in bed and sleeping, but I'm feeling better now, so, yay? hopefully updates will pick back up to their usual pace.__
> 
>  
> 
> __  
> _also fair warning, theres animal testing in this (implied) and an implied animal death bc Gaster is a dick. Also this whole chapter is a flash back and the next one will be too._  
> 

* * *

 

Unlike most monsters, who were born out of love, hope, and compassion, Sans Serif was born from simple curiosity. He was a scientist’s attempt to replace god. He was something awful. Unnatural and broken, Sans was barely even a monster.

But Gaster said it was Sans’s brokenness that made him so interesting. He said the boy’s soul was unstable, his love barely enough to bind it to his body, but that this fragility was the very thing that made it so flexible. Where most souls were glass, Sans’s was elastic. That was how his soul could withstand so much determination, it was how it could stand the magic infusions and the experiments and the blasters. His core was elastic and no matter how hard Gaster wrenched and pulled and polluted, they had yet to find the point where it would snap.

This fact delighted the scientist, but most things about Sans delighted Gaster these days, drawing the man’s face into a manic smile, eyes wild and sparking. Every new sign of intelligence, new touch of magic, all of it pulled the scientist’s face into curious expressions as he planned their next step forward.

Sans wasn’t even supposed to be sentient at all. He was supposed to be like the surface dogs Gaster bred for his experiments—stupid and thoughtless. He wasn’t supposed to have to endure so much.

 

* * *

 

They were walking towards one of the testing halls, Sans’s soul still burning from the latest magic infusion. The heat of it made his extremities feel cold, his hands almost numb. The feeling would pass in a few days, if Gaster didn’t schedule another session with the machine before then. Normally, weeks would go by between infusions, but ever since Sans’s core had been bound to the blasters, Gaster had been pushing things. He almost seemed to _want_ to find Sans’s shattering point.

Gaster shut the door behind them and turned on the lights. Like all the testing halls, the room was bare, walls humming with protective magic. Unlike most of the halls though, there was a white dog tethered to the center of the floor. It was panting, one side scarred, and looked exhausted, like it was just waiting for death.

Sans wondered what Gaster had done to the poor thing. More importantly, he wondered why Gaster had it here now. Gaster pushed Sans forward and the boy hesitated, before walking towards the dog. The animal regarded him wearily, side-eyeing him from where he sat.

“He won’t bite, Serif.” Gaster made a shooing motion, “Go on. Pet him.”

At that, Sans immediately stepped back, suspicion taking over. He glared at Gaster, both eyes lighting up blue, and felt a little nauseated by the show of hostility. Gaster didn’t like it when Sans acted like this. He didn’t like it when Sans did a lot of things and what Gaster didn’t like, he hurt. Still, Sans didn’t back down.

“Why’s it here, doc?” He asked, clenching his jaw. “Why the hell should I want to pet the damn thing?”

“It’s a dog,” Gaster crouched down and offered his own hands to the dog, running his fingers through its ruff. “I thought you liked dogs. We’re you lying to me then, little Serif?”

Sans glanced down sharply. On days when Sans wasn’t helping Gaster with his calculations in the lab, the Scientist would sometimes let Sans play with the young animals he kept in there. It was the only contact aside from Gaster that Sans was ever allowed and the boy cherished it. The older dogs were always weary (who wouldn’t be. Even Sans instinctually shrunk away from being touched most days) but the young ones would wag their tales and lick his face and play with him in the kennels. It was the only time when Sans really felt himself smile.

Now, Sans felt a cold thrill of dread overtake his soul. “What do you want me to do with it, doc?” he asked, shoulders slumped in defeat.

“I want you to kill it.”

“Oh,” Sans said, but it voice was smaller than usual. It was more like the sound had been knocked out of him, rather than made voluntarily. He swallowed hard. “Why?”

“It’s no use to me anymore and I’d like to see how your Soul reacts to EXP,” Gaster answered crisply. He must have sensed Sans’s hesitation because he then added, “You know the rules: if you do as I say, you’ll be rewarded. If you disobey, you’ll be punished. Do you understand this, Serif?”

Sans swallowed hard, but nodded.

“I have other work to attend to. I’ll be back in fifteen minutes. If the dog is still here, I’ll consider that an act of defiance and it will be dealt with as such.” Then Gaster stood and left, the door locking behind him.

Sans fell back beside the dog, just out of reach of its tether, and felt his shoulders begin to shake. The dog lifted its head, aroused out of its stupor by the rattling of Sans’s bones, and stared at the boy with wet eyes.

The animal looked so tired. Sans found he could relate to the feeling.

           

* * *

 

The first time Sans had acted out against his creator, he’d been trying to escape. A month earlier Gaster had bound Sans’s soul to the Blasters. The pain had been unimaginable. Sans was used to foreign magic entering his body, he was used to the slick, burning sensation of the determination, but he’d never had a foreign soul combined with his own.

 

“It will hurt less if you just relax,” Gaster had said, calling Sans’s soul from his chest and inserting the needle of the infuser. Immediately Sans’s body went rigid, his hands jerking against the bindings that held him to the table. “That said, this will not be pleasant. I’m so sorry.”

And Sans had never thought of Gaster as cruel before. The man had hurt him in many ways, but it was always for a reason, for science, and Gaster never caused more pain than necessary. But having the cores of the blasters forced into his own felt like having his soul ripped apart. Sans’s eyes lit up a furious blue, his skull on fire, and he didn’t even remember blacking out.

 

He remembered waking up in a bed in the main lab and being confused as to why Gaster hadn’t returned him to his cell like he usually did. There were monitors attached to his bones, one needle pressing into the marrow of Sans’s arm, and gauze was wrapped around the right side of his skull. Thinking of the cracks around Gaster’s eye, Sans immediately panicked, shooting forward only to be stopped as a burning pain racked his body. His vision went white and when it cleared, he was gasping, Gaster rubbing small circles into his back.

“My eye,” Sans whined, “Doc, I can’t feel it. I can’t—” he cut off. The right side of his skull was too cold, almost hollow feeling, and the sensation made Sans sick, a wave of vertigo overtaking him.

“I’m sorry. This wasn’t supposed to happen,” Gaster said.

Still the scientist considered the experiment success. Forget the fact that Sans could barely see out of his right eye anymore, forget the fact that his entire body felt hot and suffocated without the ability to properly vent his magic, as long as Sans could summon the Blasters, it was a success and that had made Sans _furious_.

 

So the first time Sans had acted out against his creator, he hadn’t just been trying to escape. He’d been trying to kill. In the space between summoning his blaster and firing it, Sans turned it on Gaster. The scientist hadn’t even looked surprised. He’d actually smiled as the light enveloped him.

Then the light cleared and Gaster was standing there, unharmed, a blue shield in front of him and Sans knew then that the scientist had always expected this to happen. He realized then that Gaster would always— _always—_ be one step ahead of him. Sans was helpless in the face of such omnipresence.

With a wave of his hand, the shield around Gaster dissipated and Sans felt a crushing weight grab his soul as he was slammed against the floor.

“You’ll regret ever doing that,” Gaster said, advancing on an immobile Sans, and he was right. He was always so fucking right.

         

* * *

  

The door to the testing hall opened and Gaster let out a small breath, walking up to the still-intact dog. “Serif, I’m so disappointed in you,” Gaster said, crouching down to place a hand on the dog’s head.

“I’m s-sorry,” Sans stuttered, eye’s wet. He curled in on himself, shrinking away from Gaster’s presence. “I’m sorry. P-please don’t be mad. I’m sorry.”

At that, Gaster gave him a pitying look, the type of look one might give an animal for being so stupid. “Oh, dear, if I don’t punish you, how can I expect you to learn?”

           

The next time Gaster left Sans alone with the dog, the skeleton didn’t hesitate.

           

* * *

 

And it was funny how quickly Sans learned to just _go with things_ after that particular shit show _._ It was just easier to do whatever Gaster told him to. Kill a human child? Sure, why not. Murder a few monsters? Sans could do that. Drink a vial of blue magic that made his soul feel like it was burning? No problem there, Sans couldn’t remember the last time he hadn’t been in pain anyway. 

Gaster stopped locking Sans in the cell as much. Instead the skeleton was allowed to shadow Gaster as he made his way through the lab. The doctor called him his assistant and Sans wanted to laugh at that. He was pretty sure you weren’t allowed to drug and torture your co-workers. He was lab equipment at best and when Gaster was feeling especially cold, when Sans had really managed to disappoint the man, the scientist didn’t hesitate to remind Sans of his place in the world.

Lab assistant, he said, like they were playing some awful game where Sans was actually worth something.

 

* * *

 

Sans was sitting in his cell, throwing a rubber ball against the far wall. The door was locked despite the fact that they were supposed to be working on the DT machine today. Sans didn’t move to complain though. It didn’t matter much to him if he was locked in here for the day. Sans liked his cell. It was cozy, filled with creature comforts Sans had earned for being obedient, and nothing horrible ever happened here. The worst Gaster had ever done to him in the cell was drug his food, and even that hadn’t really been bad, just uncomfortable.

The sound of someone knocking against the observation window startled Sans out of his stupor. He felt his magic thrum and glared at the window, expecting to see Gaster. Instead, he met eyes with a small child. Sans blinked, overcome with a momentary flash of vertigo, and rubbed at the space between his brows, bad eye aching, before looking back to the child. He almost expected the kid to be gone, a new attempt by Sans’s tattered mind to torture him (as if he didn’t get tortured enough by reality), but the child was still there.

The kid was dressed in an orange sweater, red scarf wrapped around his neck despite the fact that the labs were far from cold. His eyes were glowing a soft orange and he looked familiar, almost like the doctor himself. Sans grimaced at the thought. He noticed that the child was talking excitedly and motioned for the kid stop.

“I can’t hear you. You have to press the button.” Sans pointed.

A look of realization flashed across the child’s face and the next thing Sans knew, the static of the loud speaker was filling his cell. “I didn’t know there was another kid in the labs! I’m Papyrus! What’s your name?”

“Sans Serif,” Sans shifted.

What was this? Gaster never let anyone into the true labs, too afraid of how they would react to his less humane methods. As such, Sans had never met another living thing (at least not one that Gaster didn’t intend for him to kill) in his life. Was he going insane, making up imaginary children to soothe the constant awfulness that was his life? That wouldn’t be too bad. Honestly Sans had expected this to happen sooner or later.

Papyrus made a face. “That’s not a very nice name.”

Sans shrugged. His name meant ‘without beauty’ and it was a perfectly accurate name in Sans’s mind. “At least I’m not named after the most annoying font in the bunch.”

“It is not annoying,” Papyrus huffed, bothered by Sans’s statement. “It’s a _pretty_ font. Mom says so.”

Sans shifted closer to the observation window, smiling. “Yeah. Well, she’s _mom_ -umentally incorrect.”

The little skeleton groaned, eliciting a laugh from Sans and—that was new. Sans could count on one hand the number of times he had laughed in his life.

“Well, I can just call you Serif then,” Papyrus brightened, finding a solution to the name issue.

Sans made a face, thinking of Gaster. “Nah, kid. Serif is what the Doc calls me. How about just Sans?”

Papyrus pursed his lips, as though considering it, before nodding happily. “All right, Sans it is! Do you like puzzles? Dad gave me a booklet of them. You wanna help me with it?”

Sans considered the offer. He wasn’t entirely sure if this kid was real and that scared him a little bit. What would Gaster do when he found out Sans was hallucinating? The skeleton was struck with the sudden image of an empty kennel, thinking of the way the dogs just seemed to disappear once Gaster was through with them.

But then, if this _was_ in his head, there wasn’t really much Sans could do to stop it from transpiring. Sans had learned a lot of tricks over the years, ways to dull his brain to the point where it was _almost_ comfortable, but he’d never found a way to silence it completely. If his mind wanted to go haywire, there was no stopping it, so Sans figured he might as well make the best of things.

Besides, going crazy might be fun. At the very least it’d be a change from the constant horror of life with Gaster.

“Sure thing, kiddo,” Sans smiled. “What’cha got for us?”   

       

* * *

    

A part of Sans hoped he’d never see Papyrus after that day, and a much bigger part of him looked for the boy everywhere. And much to Sans's joy, Papyrus kept showing up. And showing up. And showing up. It was a new constant in Sans’s life, this kid that appeared out of nowhere, and after their tenth meeting, Sans decided that Papyrus had to be real because there was no way something so bright could have come from something like Sans.

After that, Sans stubbornly refused to question Papyrus’s presence in the lab. Maybe he should have thought about it. Maybe he should have put two and two together, realizing that every day Papyrus appeared was a day Sans was locked in his cell—realizing that Gaster _had_ to have something to do with the kid. Instead, Sans just didn’t analyze it. He didn’t let himself think for a moment that the two were related. He let himself feel glad for the coincidence, glad that he didn’t even have a chance to pollute the joy that was Papyrus, and just didn’t look beyond that.

* * *

 

           

Currently Papyrus was leaning one shoulder against the observation window, Sans sitting on the other side. He’d used a rock from his backpack to hold the speaker button down and now the two spoke easily, Sans keeping his eye on the ceiling. From long years of habit, he watched the camera in the corner of his cell for movement, but he didn’t expect any. It had been years since Gaster had used the camera (or at least that Sans knew of).

“Sans, why are you always in the room?” Papyrus asked suddenly. “Is that where you live?”

Sans flinched, but immediately plastered an easy smile on his face. “I’m under quarantine, Paps,” Sans lied. “I’m sick, see? So I hafta stay in here to make sure no one else gets sick from me.”

“You’re sick?”

“That’s right,” Sans nodded encouragingly.

“Is that why you only have one HP?”

Sure, that was as good an explanation as any. Better than the whole “I have one HP because I’m an artificial abomination that was made to function as a weapon against humans” anyway. Sans nodded again. “Yeah, Pap. That’s exactly right. How’d you get so smart?”

Papyrus’s face brightened at the compliment—it always did when Sans told him something nice—then fell once more. Sans could practically see the gears turning in the kid’s head. “Sans, if you’re so sick then are you gonna die?”

“W-what?”

“My mom’s sick,” Papyrus said, voice small. “Dad says she isn’t going to get better. He says—he says she’s gonna fall soon.” The kid curled in on himself. “Are you gonna fall too, then?”

“Aw crap,” Sans pressed a hand to the glass, wishing he could hug the kid. “I’m not falling anytime soon, Paps. I promise, okay?”

Papyrus sniffled, orange tears staining his cheeks, and Sans felt his heart break at the sight. “I don’t want anyone to die, Sans. It’s not fair. You shouldn’t be sick. M-mom should be okay. Her and dad, they—“ the kid cut off sharply.

“Hey, hey kid. Come ‘ere, will you?” Sans said, scooting closer to the glass. He pressed both hands against the window, “Come on, humor me will ya? Put your hands over mine?”

Still crying, the kid did so. Sans immediately sent out a soft wave of magic, almost like he was trying to heal the little skeleton. It was hard to do so with the window between them, the entirety of Sans cell meant to keep magic in, but it was easier with the kid so close. Papyrus’s eyes widened, his glowing orange sockets meeting Sans’s single blue one. Feeling the kid’s soul calm, Sans smiled.

“Heh, look at that. The two of us could almost be brothers,” Sans said, gesturing to their mismatched hands. That brought a smile to the kid and Sans pulled back, letting his magic dissipate. “You feeling better, kid? I didn’t hurt ya, did I?”

“No,” Papyrus wiped away his tears. “It felt warm. Like a hug.”

“Close as I can manage in here anyway,” Sans winked. He rubbed at the back of his skull. “I’m sorry to hear about your mom being sick, but I don’t think she’d want you to be hurting so badly over it.” Sans said. He paused, “it sounds like she’s a really nice lady. She probably loves you a lot, Pap.”

Papyrus nodded. “Dad says I gotta be strong for her.”

“You don’t hafta be strong for anyone but yourself, Pap,” Sans said fiercely. Then coughed, wondering where the sudden vitriol towards the idea had come from. Ah, it was something Gaster had told him once, back when he’d still had enough of a soul to try to comfort Sans. He said that the skeleton needed to be strong for the underground, for all of monster kind, like that was a justification for the things he did to Sans. Maybe Gaster had thought it was…

“Hey, you ever learn about the surface in school?” Sans said, an idea striking.

Papyrus blinked, but nodded.

“You wanna know something cool? So when monsters die, they turn to dust right? You wanna know where that dust comes from? Stars. They’re the only thing in existence with a similar composition to monster bodies,” Sans said. “So it stands to reason, you know, that when we die, some of our dust goes back out there to make new stars. Isn’t that cool to think about? That we all have a little piece of the surface in us?”

God, Sans was bad at this, but he counted it as a success when a small smile touched Papyrus’s face. “But I can’t see the stars,” the kid said. “Does that mean I won’t ever get to see my mom?”

“Of course it doesn’t, Pap! Don’t be such a sillybones. You ever seen the wishing cave in waterfall?” Sans said, thinking of the stories he’d had read about the place and its mythical ceiling. “You’ll get to see her there.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. I promise, kid.”

* * *

 

 

            Four months later and Sans sat in on his cot, waiting for the lights to come on in the lab, but they didn’t. As hours passed with no sign of Gaster, the skeleton began to shift uncomfortably. He assured himself that this was only a new test, Gaster’s way of seeing how Sans might react to a change in routine, but it had been a long time since Gaster had been interested in testing something so dull.

When hours passed and there was still no activity, Sans began to panic. No one else in the world knew about him besides Gaster and Papyrus. And though Sans had always accepted the fact that one day, Papyrus would vanish, but he had never considered the same thing happening to Gaster. Sans couldn’t even really imagine the man outside the lab at all, much less think of him leaving and _never coming back._ The scientist was Sans’s entire reason for existing and if something happened to the man? Well, Sans would be left to rot in this cell. No one would care when he fell then, because not a soul would know.

            Sans soul flickered uncertainly in his chest, but there was nothing else for him to do but wait for Gaster to show up. As per usual, Sans was completely powerless to help his situation.

 

A long while passed like this. Without Gaster’s coming and goings to keep track of the day, Sans had no idea how much time had passed. It could have been a few hours, but it felt more like days. Then the lights turned back on and a few minutes later, Gaster was punching the code into the door to Sans’s cell. He had the skeleton’s breakfast on a tray and, if it weren’t for the gnawing hunger in Sans’s stomach, the skeleton might have forgotten that the man had been gone at all.

“Here. You must be hungry,” Gaster said, and set the tray on the dresser in the corner before making to leave once more.

Sans hurried to his feet, forcing himself to remain steady even when his head swam. “Wait! Where the hell were you?”

Gaster didn’t glance back. “I had important family matters to attend to, but it won’t happen again,” he said and left.

Sans fell back onto his cot, a little winded by the man’s brevity. None of this had ever happened before and though Sans had never been anything close to important to the scientist, Gaster had never outright dismissed him like that. In fact, Gaster seemed to enjoy teaching Sans most of the time. The man had an ego a mile long and he liked to flaunt his knowledge. He liked it even more when Sans, his creation, his perfect being, understood these teachings.

Now the man had just shrugged him off after being gone for days and Sans didn’t know how to feel about that.

* * *

 

 

 

Papyrus appeared later that same night. He was disheveled looking, like he had walked a long way, and had a backpack draped around one shoulder, a flashlight in his hand. Sans didn’t know how the child had gotten into the labs. Gaster put the place on lockdown once he left. Not even Sans had a hope of navigating the place without the scientist, yet here was Papyrus, strolling down the hallway like he owned the place.

He pointed the flashlight in Sans’s direction and the skeleton blinked, sitting up from his spot on the floor. He hadn’t been sleeping, but the sudden light was jarring.

“Sans!” Papyrus shouted and pressed a hand against the observation panel. He was shaking and had a tear in the knee of his pants.

Sans hurried over to the window. “Paps? What the hell are you doing here?”

“I’m running away,” Paps huffed, puffing out his chest like a bird.

Sans’s expression fell. He looked the kid over and sighed deeply, pinching the ridge between his eye sockets. “Why would you want to do that, kiddo?”

Papyrus shifted uncomfortably.

“Paps? Is someone hurting you at home?” Sans felt his soul spark at the thought. He didn’t know what he would do if the kid said yes (or maybe he did. Maybe he was just scared to admit how quickly he’d kill for Papyrus). “Are you in trouble or something?”

“No—”

“Then why?”

Papyrus sniffled and looked at the ground. Sans’s eyes widened in realization and he pressed closer to the window, eyes on the kid before him. “Paps, did she die? Your mom?”

There was a small hiccupping noise and Papyrus nodded, holding himself like he thought he might fall apart as he descended into sobs.

“Oh, Paps. Oh,” Sans felt his heart break. He pressed his forehead to the glass, wishing he could phase through it, wishing he could be there beside the child to comfort him. It was such a short distance in the grand scheme of things, but so insurmountably large at the same time.

Sans grit his teeth, feeling his soul flare in frustration, then something inside him just seemed to _give._ It was like a wall in his brain crumpled and Sans’s eyes filled with a bright light, the smell of magic overtaking him.

He landed on the ground outside his cell, feeling a bit like he’d been run over by a truck.

“S-Sans?” Papyrus squeaked.

Sans let out a laugh. The kid looked so much brighter without the glass panel between them, so much more corporeal. Sans wrapped him in a hug, pulling Papyrus close to his chest. He wasn’t entirely sure what he had just done, but he felt elated, a little bit like he had just solved the world’s most complex math equation, and hugging papyrus now just made it seem all the better. Because he had _teleported_ and god, that was amazing, wasn’t it?  

Papyrus stiffened in Sans’s embrace, before wrapping his arms around the other skeletons body and squeezing tightly. Never mind the fact that Sans was disgusting and awful and barely even a monster. Papyrus hugged him like he was a lifeline.

It occurred to Sans that he’d never been hugged before. He was rarely touched and if it weren’t for the hours he spent in the kennel taking care of the dogs, Sans might have never known physical affection at all.

He pulled back and met Papyrus’s eyes. The kid had stopped crying and his eye lights glowed a soft orange, tear stains trailing down his skull.

“I’m sorry she’s gone, Paps,” Sans said. “But you can’t run away. You gotta know that. Things might seem bad now, but what about your dad? You can’t leave him.”

Papyrus nodded slowly, like he knew Sans was right but didn’t want to admit it, and his eyes focused on a place behind Sans. “It’s different without her there. _He’s_ different.”

“Is he mean to you?”

Papyrus shook his head. “No. He’s just quiet. He’s just—he’s not _her.”_

It suddenly occurred to Sans that Papyrus didn’t talk much about his dad. In the year that the kid had been visiting him, Sans had learned everything about Paps’s mom. He knew she read to him at night, knew her favorite songs to sing, knew she loved echo flowers more than anything. Sans could build a fairly decent picture of her in his mind, but when he thought of Papyrus’s father, the man was faceless. He was a shadow sitting at the edge of Papyrus’s life, there but also just _not._

“Paps, you don’t want to run away,” Sans said then. “You wouldn’t have come here if you really wanted to. You want me to talk you out of it because you know it’s not a good plan.”

“I want you to _come with me_ ,” Paps choked out.

“No you don’t. You know I can’t. You want me to tell you to go home.”

_“Sans— “_

And there was more to that sentence, Sans knew there was, he knew that Papyrus was still talking, but a sudden grip on his soul made his mind go horrifically blank. He felt himself slammed against the observation window, his HP falling as a serious of cracks stretched across the window like a spider web. Sans let out a harsh breath. The pain was enough to make his eyes sting, but he didn’t let it show, choosing instead to stare down his attacker—to stare down Gaster.

Sans called forth his magic, blue eye sparking, gritting his teeth against the complete _wrongness_ he felt at the idea of attacking Gaster, because Sans would be damned before he let the man touch Papyrus. Sans would rip him limb from limb if Gaster even tried to hurt his baby brother. He was going to fucking crucify the man—

Except before Sans could retaliate, Gaster said something strange. He said, “ _what the fuck do you think you’re doing with my son?”_ And Sans went completely limp.

 

Because _oh._ Because _of course._ Because suddenly everything made so much fucking sense and Sans felt a little like he wanted to laugh, and a lot more like he wanted to cry.

Papyrus was Gaster’s _kid._ He wasn’t some fucked up almost-son like Sans, Papyrus was Gaster’s real flesh and blood, his actual baby boy. That was how papyrus kept finding his way into the lab. That was how the kid kept showing up over and over again because _Gaster was bringing him here._

Sans had never questioned it. Sans hadn’t _wanted_ to question it, because he had so little good in his life, and who was he to look a gift horse in the mouth? But he realized now that had been stupid. He realized now he should’ve never let himself grow so complacent.

Because Gaster looked absolutely fucking _livid._

 

“I d-didn’t—I thought—” Sans sputtered, voice small.

Gaster’s grip on his soul tightened painfully. “I wake up to find my son gone, my son _missing_ , to find him here with your dirty, _disgusting_ hands on him, and all you have to say is you ‘ _thought’_? You thought what? You thought you could escape? You thought you could use my baby— _my son_ —against me? You really _honestly_ thought you could kidnap _my child_ and I wouldn’t catch you _,_ that I wouldn’t hunt you down and    ** _t e a r   y o u    a p a r t_** if you did?”

Sans flinched away from the accusation. It wasn’t true. He hadn’t _known,_ but goddamn it, how lame of an excuse was that? Gaster wouldn’t believe it. _Sans_ barely believed it.

Gaster slammed Sans against another wall and let the skeleton drop to the floor. He pushed himself up on his elbows and spat up a glob of blood, his bones rattling.

“S-Sans?” Papyrus took a step closer to him.

“Stay away from him,” Gaster hissed, grabbing Papyrus around the arm.

Always a stubborn little brat, Papyrus immediately jerk out of his father’s grasp, advancing on Sans, and Sans cowered back. He didn’t know what Gaster would do to him if he let Papyrus get too close and Sans didn’t want to find out.

“He’s not dangerous! He’s my friend!” Papyrus turned to his father.

“No, Papyrus. He lied to you. He’s a killer. He’s a murderer and a liar. That’s why he’s locked up here. _Because he’s an animal._ ”

“No! He’s said he was here because he was sick!”

“He lied to you,” Gaster shot back and Sans squeezed his eyes shut, not liking the small sobbing sounds Papyrus kept making. “That’s what he does. He lies and he taints and he _rends._ He was just using you to escape.”

“Sans?” Papyrus sounded so uncertain and it made Sans’s heart break.

“Tell him, Serif. Tell my son you were using him,” Gaster prompted.

And the words felt thick in Sans’s throat. He struggled to talk, mouth gaping for a moment, before settling for a small nod. “yeah. Yeah that’s true.”

Papyrus sniffled. “You aren’t my friend?”

“No kid. I’m not.”

“And about us being brothers?”

Sans clenched his jaw, so hard it was painful. “Yeah, Pap. I lied.”

At that, the kids eye sockets went dark. “Oh,” he squeaked.

Satisfied with the exchange, Gaster scooped the kid up into his arms, Papyrus clutching to the scientist’s robes. “I’m going to take him home.”

“Doc, I didn’t—please d-don’t be mad at him.”

Gaster looked a little shocked by the words, but quickly recovered. He adjusted his grip on Papyrus. “Go to my office and wait for me there. Don’t think about doing anything rash.”

Sans nodded. He didn’t think he could move. Honestly, he figured he had already messed enough up for a lifetime.

 

* * *

 

Sans bolted upright the moment Gaster appeared in the office, scrambling to his feet. The man looked haggard, eyes a little sunken in, and Sans had to wonder how much sleep he had gotten before coming here. Probably not much. Probably not any.

He stood before Sans, turning the skeleton’s head to the side to look at the cracks his attack had left on the little skeleton, and sunk into his chair.

“Papyrus told me everything,” Gaster said.

Sans swallowed hard. He pressed his fingers into the spaces between his knuckles, the sharp pain helping him focus. “Oh?”

“I’m not used to watching him. His mother always did that for me and I—well, I worked. I didn’t like taking him here with me, but sometimes you can’t help it. I especially couldn’t after she got sick. I thought I could keep him contained. I didn’t know he was sneaking out of my office.”

“Yeah, he can be a little mischievous sometimes.”

“Yes. He certainly can.” Gaster lifted a hand and gripped Sans’s soul, lifting the skeleton in the air. “You won’t ever see him again, Serif? Is that understood?”

Sans nodded, bones rattling. “Yes, sir.”

“If I even suspect you’ve been around him, you will regret it. I will not dust you. I’ll do so much worse than that.”

“Yes. Y-yeah, of course,” Sans stuttered, not really processing the words that escaped his mouth.

 Satisfied, Gaster let Sans drop to the floor and stood. “Good. Now that we have that sorted, I have a new project for us to work on. Come,” he said and began walking.

And Sans, shaking, sniveling, _disgusting Sans_ , followed behind him like the dog he was.

 

Because in the end, Sans wasn’t like other monsters. He wasn’t born from love. Not compassion. Not hope. He was just a fucking mistake and without Gaster? Well, without Gaster he was absolutely _nothing at all._

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ok, so I'm planning on putting the next chapter up by thursday. again, I'm so sorry about being so late, but i hope you enjoy!
> 
> As always, thanks for reading and your comments fill my dirty artist's soul with _determination ___

**Author's Note:**

> get ready for the angst fest...
> 
> also let me know if i forgot to tag something. this is my first fic and i tried to cover all my bases, but yeah. nobody's perfect *starts singing hannah montana*
> 
> this is the start of probably a two part au I'm making. so yeah. *jazz hands*


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